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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884225">Price: Smiles</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly'>vipjuly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>U-Pick [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Carpenter Dean Winchester, Complete Fic - Updating Daily Until Complete, F/F, F/M, Fae Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grumpy Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel (Supernatural), It's All Fluff I Promise, M/M, Mating Bond, Retired Castiel, Ritual Sex, Tags Added Along With Each New Chapter, Tantric Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Witch Sam Winchester, daily updates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:29:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipjuly/pseuds/vipjuly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's neighbor has a beautiful garden that he invites the neighborhood to pick from. Dean is sunshine and flower blossoms, drawing Castiel closer and closer into orbit every single day. He's inspiring in a way. So inspiring that Castiel decides to finally bite the bullet and retire. Bit by bit, Dean introduces Castiel to the wonders of domestic life, as well as the rest of the friendly neighborhood people.</p><p>There's something... strange about Dean, though. Perhaps it has something to do with how quickly his vegetables come to harvest, or the glitter that keeps falling out of Castiel's clothes every time they talk...</p><p>No- no. That can't be it. </p><p>Unless...?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury/Gilda, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>U-Pick [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721374</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>567</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Zucchini</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Pleased read the prequel, <a href="http://archiveofourown.com/works/23413765">"U-Pick"</a>, first!<br/>This is a chaptered piece for my new series.<br/>A tropey misunderstanding or two, but generally fluffy and sweet and sunshiney.<br/>IT IS COMPLETE. I will be uploading a chapter a day to try and get some smiles out of my favorite babes in the world: you💖<br/>Tags will be added as the story moves along for those of you reading it as a WIP to avoid spoilers.<br/>So much love to all of you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the month of March turns over into April, it’s ugly. The first week of April is nothing but grey clouds and rain and winds. Castiel continues to work from home. As it is, he wonders why he doesn’t always work from home. There’s not a single thing he can’t do remotely, but he knows his boss, Crowley, is always looking for a reason to complain about him - the model employee. Working from home is something he’d probably deem as ‘lazy’ or ‘going complicit’. </p><p>The reality is that Castiel quite enjoys wearing pajama pants or boxers every single day and only pulling on the same blazer and tie for every webcam meeting he has to attend. Others are doing the same. Castiel knows for a fact Balthazar only owns one purple tie, and he’s worn it every day for the past week. </p><p>On a personal Skype session with Balthazar, his friend says, “Can’t you retire?” </p><p>“And do what?” Castiel replies, almost a bit gruffly. On his other monitor screen he’s filling out a spreadsheet. </p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, have some <i>fun</i> with life?” </p><p>“You’re under the assumption that I’m capable of having fun.”</p><p>“Cassie,” Balthazar clucks his tongue. “With that attitude you’ll go into an early grave.”</p><p>“Good,” Castiel replies easily. “I’ll either welcome the black void or get reborn as someone capable of having fun.” His eyes flick over towards the webcam as he fights the smallest of smiles. “Seems like a decent gamble.”</p><p>Balthazar laughs out loud. “You’re ridiculous, love. Honestly. There has to be something you like doing? Or something you’ve always wanted to do?” </p><p>Tapping his finger idly on his mouse without clicking it, Castiel flits his gaze out the living room window on the side of his house, where he has a clear view of the neighbor’s cottage. “Perhaps.” </p><p>“Then I say tender your resignation on Friday and start anew on Monday!” </p><p>“Are you living vicariously through me because you still have five years until you can retire?” Castiel asks dryly.</p><p>“At least this company lets you retire before you hit fifty, if you’ve ticked all the boxes.” </p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>“Cassie,” Balthazar’s tone shifts from joking to soft. Castiel risks looking at him, hating the sympathy written on the other man’s expressions. “Consider it, won’t you? You’re two years past retirement and one year til’ fifty.” </p><p>“If it will get you to shut up, I will consider it.”</p><p>Balthazar smiles brightly. “Wonderful! Now, onto important matters: can you email me that spreadsheet you’re working on?”</p><p>Castiel scowls. “Make your own.” He disconnects the Skype call before Balthazar can react, though when he finishes the spreadsheet an hour later he does end up emailing it to him. </p><p>Settling back in his office chair, he rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs out loud.</p><p>Retirement, hm?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Friday afternoon, Castiel heads into the city to see Crowley in person so he can hand in all of the proper paperwork for retirement. He’s already talked it through with related parties and had them draw everything up, so talking to Crowley is a formality, but one that he will not miss. Crowley is so surprised he doesn’t speak for five minutes, and then asks Castiel what he can do to get him to stay.<p>Digging in his heels, Castiel refuses every offer Crowley makes. His retirement is at its maximum, including pensions and bonuses that he never cashed out over the past twenty years. Crowley goes red in the face but eventually relents, stiffly shaking Castiel’s hand and wishing him well.</p><p>He clears out his office, donating everything he can and tossing the unimportant things. He leaves the building with only a potted daisy in his hands, feeling a lightness in his steps that he hasn’t experienced in… well, ever. The bus ride home doesn’t even annoy him, even when it’s unusually crowded until it starts to reach the outskirts of the city. </p><p>It’s not a terribly beautiful day, clouds in the sky threatening rain, but none falling. Castiel spots Dean in his front yard as he approaches the driveway, once again on a gardening cushion and troweling new paths for what will be, assumedly, more vegetables. </p><p>“Heya, Cas!” Dean greets with a friendly smile and wave. His eyes go to the plant in his hands. “Got yourself a friend?” </p><p>Looking down at the plant, Castiel feels a small smile spread over his lips. “I retired today.” </p><p>“Wow,” Dean stands up nimbly from his kneeling position. Oh, to be in one’s early twenties. He claps some dirt off of his bare hands, then reaches out towards Castiel. “May I?” </p><p>Handing over the small pot with its lonesome daisy, Castiel watches curiously as Dean turns it this way and that.</p><p>“She needs a friend,” Dean says. The daisy seems to perk up a bit as he holds it, its petals turning towards Dean as though he’s the sun.</p><p>“I’m not very good at keeping plants alive,” Castiel confesses, gesturing at his yard. “As you can see, I can only manage basic upkeep of sprinklers and lawn mowing.”</p><p>Dean looks at Castiel’s yard thoughtfully. “Well, I moved in around October, so I haven’t really had a chance to see your botany skills.” He winks, handing Castiel the flower back. “Now’s the perfect time to plant, though. Snow’s melted off the mountains which means the ground isn’t frozen.” </p><p>Raising a brow, Castiel looks down at Dean’s - oh, bare as well - feet. “Is that so?”</p><p>Dean nods. “I think for now she’ll be fine inside, but she really would rather be outside. Maybe when the weather settles you can get her some company? Hanging plants are generally easy to take care of if you’re not sure about doing actual garden work in the lawn.” </p><p>Feeling overloaded with information as well as Dean’s easy, friendly demeanor, Castiel senses his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his daisy with a furrowed brow. “I will consider it.” </p><p>“But hey,” Dean reaches out to clap Castiel’s shoulder, surprising him. “Retired! Any special plans?” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Castiel says honestly. He doesn’t know Dean that well, therefore he feels a bit of comfort in confiding in him. They don’t know each other well enough to judge. “I’ve been working at the same job for over twenty years and had the option to retire a while ago, but chose not to, because the thought of not waking up and going to work every day…” he lets out a breath, still looking at his daisy. “I find it difficult to lead a sedentary life.” </p><p>“Well your first problem is viewing it like that,” the young man says easily, shrugging. He lifts a hand to wipe sweat off of a freckled brow, leaving a smudge of dirt behind, Castiel’s eyes following the movement. “Just ‘cause you’ve retired from a job don’t mean you gotta stop working.” </p><p>Squinting a little, Castiel regards Dean. “Then what is the point of retirement?” </p><p>“To work on yourself,” Dean says with a sunny smile, some clouds parting over their heads to amplify it with sun rays. He softens around the edges a little while bathed in golden light. His freckles are so beautiful. “You don’t gotta have the answers right now, or even ever. Sometimes the journey’s all you need.” </p><p>With that, Dean takes the few steps back to his cushion, kneeling on it and using his hands to till through the freshly upturned dirt. There’s a wooden sign next to his tomatoes labeling them, and a new wooden sign laying by his feet with <b>zucchini</b> written across it in paint. </p><p>Considering the conversation closed, Castiel turns to head towards his house, walking up the path to his porch. Once inside, he looks at his daisy, glances around his living room, then opens up his front door and carries it back out to one of the stock front porch tables he’d purchased when he’d newly moved in. Setting the daisy down on it just right so that the sun will hit it from the best angles, Castiel smiles to himself.</p><p>He glances up to see Dean sending him a warm smile from across the picket fence.</p><p>His heart pitter-patters. </p><p>For the rest of the day, he feels light.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Castiel sleeps away the weekend for the first time in… well, probably ever. He chats with Balthazar on the phone once to reassure him that he’s not having a midlife crisis, just taking advice to heart, and spends the rest of the time sleeping or fixing himself small meals like sandwiches or salads.<p>By the time he wakes up Monday morning, it’s seven a.m. and he feels… amazing, really. His body is awake because it’s used to getting up and heading to work, his mind somewhat alert also, but knowing that he doesn’t <i>actually</i> have anywhere to go causes him to be lazy and grumpy. Eventually he gets up, showers, changes into fresh boxers and a new t-shirt, then makes his way to the kitchen to fix himself nearly a gallon of coffee. He looks out of his window into the backyard, surprised to see clear, sunny skies, white fluffy clouds rolling along lazily in the distance.</p><p>Unfortunately, the clear weather highlights the rather dismal state of his yard. He wasn’t kidding when he’d told Dean that he was no green thumb. His yard is at least green. Just nothing special. He doesn’t really have a ‘vision’ for landscaping; he has grass, so he waters and mows it, trims up the bushes when they get unruly, and calls it good. </p><p>Movement catches the corner of his eye. He sips his coffee as he sees Dean milling about inside his shop, sweeping debris and scooping it into a dustpan to dispose of it into his bin. He supposes that Dean’s business will probably pick up quite considerably with the fresh change of weather, people spring cleaning and thinking about how they’d like their home to look. Castiel’s own home could use a special touch. </p><p>Dean’s bobbing along to some music, though Castiel can’t hear it through the window. Reaching out, he slides the window open a few inches, allowing in the fresh morning breeze as well as the sounds of Led Zeppelin. Closing his eyes, he feels the air kiss his skin. Oh, what a lovely way to wake up, with coffee on his tongue and fresh spring in his nose. </p><p>Standing at his counter watching Dean carry on is its own sort of therapeutic. He feels a little voyeuristic, but what neighbor isn’t? Dean’s shop has two doors; a big, tall one that reaches the roof, and a smaller one that Castiel knows houses a vintage car. The car is closest to Castiel’s fence, so he hears its rumble whenever Dean decides to drive it, though that’s not often. The big shop door is where Dean crafts furniture; Castiel can see an organized tool bench and some wooden saw horses before he can’t see any further into the shop due to shadows. </p><p>For being so young, Dean is surprisingly… organized? Castiel’s unsure that’s the word he wants to use, though it is true. </p><p>Responsible? Successful? Handy? Hand...some?</p><p>Well, of course, Castiel. You can’t stop staring at him whenever you get the chance. </p><p>Knuckling his eye with his free hand, Castiel hums and finishes off his coffee, pouring another cup. It’s just past seven-thirty, but it looks like Dean’s been at it for a while, perhaps even since the sun came up. Tying his robe securely around himself, Castiel pours a second mug of coffee, then moves to the back door. He toes on his slippers, then allows himself out onto the back deck through the sliding door. Out here he’s managed to be a little more creative; he has store-bought patio furniture tucked up to the house for the winter, cushions in storage. There are some lights hanging from the roof of the deck, and he thinks it’s a pretty good ‘bungalow’ mood, though he’s sure someone else could spruce it up. </p><p>Walking down the steps, he welcomes the sun on his skin as he approaches the small white picket fence separating his yard from Dean’s. Dean sees him nearly right away, offering a pretty smile as he walks over on light feet. </p><p>“Mornin’!” he greets. “Body not on retirement time yet?” </p><p>Castiel shakes his head, holding out the second mug of coffee. “Seems you are used to being awake early.” </p><p>Looking grateful, Dean props the broom against the fence and reaches out to take the mug. Their fingertips brush. Castiel swears he feels sparks. “Thanks, Cas. And yeah, though I tend to wake up whenever the sun does year ‘round.” He sips at the coffee, letting out a noise of delight. Some shimmer in the air around his shoulders catches Castiel’s eye, probably some dust particles stirred up from his sweeping. </p><p>“I noticed you make furniture,” Castiel says.</p><p>“Aw shit,” Dean looks worried. “Have I bothered you with it? I know it gets kinda loud when I use the tools but it’s more affordable for me to work from home than it is to rent a place.” </p><p>Shaking his head, Castiel allows a small smile to grace his lips. “No, Dean. I don’t mind it. From what I’ve seen, you’re very good.” </p><p>Puffing his chest up a bit, Dean grins. “I also upholster furniture on request. Got myself a sweet gig, man. Sweet gig.” </p><p>“Is it sustainable?” Castiel asks, because he’s old and nosy, and Dean is young and vibrant. </p><p>“Don’t got many bills,” Dean shrugs. “But it’s plenty livable.” </p><p>“Do you advertise?”</p><p>Dean slurps a bit of his coffee, nearly replying before he swallowed. He coughs, wipes his mouth, then replies. “Uh- nah. Word of mouth is how I get around.”</p><p>Castiel’s head tilts. “You would acquire more business if you advertise.” </p><p>“Yeah, but,” Dean laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The shimmer appears at his ears then disappears, his freckles seeming to brighten. “M’not so good at that stuff. Gotta have, like, a studio session with a photographer for all my pieces in order to create an inventory and a gallery, pay that person, then develop a website, pay that person, then upkeep the website…” he lets out a breath, frowning into his coffee cup. Castiel’s never seen him frown. He doesn’t like it. “Dunno. Always sounds like a good idea, then all the stuff that goes into it gets me down. I make good money, but I can’t pay the big bucks for all that stuff.” </p><p>Tapping his fingers on his mug, Castiel hesitates a moment before asking, “Do you know what job I retired from, Dean?” </p><p>Tilting his head, Dean’s nose wrinkles cutely as he says, “No.” </p><p>“Marketing and advertising,” Castiel replies, smiling wryly as he takes a sip from his mug.</p><p>Dean’s eyes bug out of his head. “No shit?” </p><p>Nodding, Castiel glances over Dean’s shoulder towards his shop. Now that he’s closer, he can see the frame of what looks like a chair sitting prettily, rough-hewn wood halfway sanded and the shape halfway completed. “I would occasionally have to meet clients in person in order to take photos of their items. Then I would do website development as well as book radio and television and magazine advertisements.” </p><p>Looking like a kid on Christmas, Dean leans forward, his knees braced against the fence as he swings into Castiel’s personal space. The wood doesn’t even creak. “D’you think- I mean, only if you want! But- d’you think you could help me out? Maybe something small? I can pay-” </p><p>“No,” Castiel says, waving a hand. Dean deflates, so Castiel quickly says, “I do not need to be paid, Dean. These are skills I have learned over time. I have never worked on a project that I… <i>wanted</i> to work on. I would love to help you out, as I think it would be fun for me, as well.” </p><p>Smiling brightly, Dean claps Castiel’s shoulder a few times, threatening to knock his coffee out of his hand. “Well, hey! If you won’t take money, you can pick anything outta my garden at any time! Or even tell me what to grow if you have a favorite! You’ll never have to go to the grocery store again.” </p><p>“I need meat,” Castiel says idly. </p><p>Dean waves a hand. “Besides that. Look, you’re offerin’ me the deal of a lifetime. You sure about it? I meant it when I said you should work on yourself. If this contradicts anything you had planned, or goes against your gut feeling, just tell me no, ‘kay?” </p><p>Softening, Castiel nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.” </p><p>“Sweet.” Dean beams. “I still got a bit til’ I gotta work on my first order of the season. Once I start that, though, I’d love to have you over so we can get some shit done.”</p><p>“Of course, Dean,” Castiel says. He lifts his coffee mug in salutations, “Bring the mug over whenever you can.” </p><p>“Thanks!” Dean calls after him as he meanders back onto his back porch. </p><p>Dean had said the journey is what matters. </p><p>Castiel thinks he may have just started one.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Two weeks later, Castiel pulls a steaming pan of zucchini bread out of the oven. He sets it on a wire rack on the counter to cool, fiddling about as he cleans up his mess. The scent is <i>heavenly</i>, sweet and rich. The weather has been beautiful; Castiel has mowed his lawn, watered it, trimmed up his hedges, and even transplanted his daisy to a bigger pot with a bundle of other daisies. She is quite happy, just like Dean said she’d be, her face turned towards the sun every single day as her leaves twine with the other flowers’.<p>Speaking of Dean…</p><p>Castiel looks out the kitchen window to see Dean on a crawler underneath his black beast of a car. He’s wearing torn, oil-stained jeans and a ratty t-shirt so threadbare Castiel can see his nipples whenever he sits up to mop the sweat from his face. The bumper of the car gleams every time Dean passes it, his satisfied smile that of a lover’s as he returns to the car’s undercarriage to continue doing whatever it is he’s doing. </p><p>Waiting about twenty minutes, Castiel transfers the bread from the pan to a square plate, perfect for holding a loaf of homemade bread. He cuts it in half, wrapping both ends in saran wrap, before wiping his hands on his apron. Bracing himself, he shakes his hands out a few times before picking up one half of the bread, exiting his house to the back deck and then making his way to the fence.</p><p>AC/DC is playing a bit louder than usual today. Under the car tools clank and bang, Dean singing along to the song, one of his feet wiggling rhythmically in time with the music. There’s a small gate connecting the two yards now, which Castiel opens and walks through without a second thought, still holding the zucchini bread in suddenly sweaty fingers. </p><p>“Dean?” Castiel calls out.</p><p>Something falls with a clang. Dean curses, swoops out from under the car on his crawler with a scowl on his face - until he sees Castiel. Immediately changing his attitude, Dean reaches into his pocket and the music shuts off, presumably controlled via bluetooth. Standing up off of the crawler he picks up the rag hanging from the bumper of his car, taking a step towards Castiel.</p><p>Oh, is he handsome, covered in sweat and grease and whatever other sort of grime cars produce, in clothes that do nothing to hide his beautiful physique. </p><p>“Hey, man,” he greets. His eyes immediately drop to Castiel’s hands, which are now holding the zucchini bread to his chest. He dons a small smirk, lifting his gaze back to Castiel’s. “Whatcha got there?”</p><p>“Ah-” Jolting back to reality, Castiel holds out the cling-wrapped bread. “I baked some bread using the zucchinis from your garden.”</p><p>“Sweet!” Dean says, taking the bread and holding it up to his nose for a big whiff. “Mmmm.”</p><p>“It’s curious,” Castiel says, tilting his head and looking at the bread. “You planted seeds just two weeks ago, and yet the zucchinis have grown to harvest already.” </p><p>Shrugging, Dean starts unwrapping the bread, taking a big bite out of it and groaning. “You ever bake this before?”</p><p>Shaking his head, Castiel can’t help but smile. “I never considered myself a baker.”</p><p>“Well consider me convinced you should be,” Dean says with a grin. He takes another bite, humming in satisfaction. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Castiel asks, gesturing towards the car. </p><p>“Oil change,” Dean replies, cheeks stuffed with bread. He smiles at his car. “I don’t drive her much, but I gotta keep up maintenance. She’s a fussy girl.” </p><p>Nodding, even though he knows nothing about cars, Castiel wipes his sweaty hands on the hem of his apron. He has noticed that Dean rarely leaves home. “Well. I came over to bring you bread. Seeing how much you like it, perhaps I should have brought the whole loaf.” He arches a brow at Dean’s horrible manners.</p><p>Laughing with his mouth full, Dean shakes his head and takes a moment to swallow as he beams at Castiel. “No way! Definitely keep the other half to yourself. Zucchini bread is a perfect quick morning meal. Nuke it for fifteen seconds, spread some butter on it, and-” he brings his fingers to his lips to kiss them. “-unmatched, man. Save for banana bread. Definitely do the same thing with banana bread.” </p><p>Chuckling at Dean’s enthusiasm, Castiel nods again, this time with more confidence. “Will do, Dean.” He looks over his shoulder. “Is that chair an order you’re fulfilling?”</p><p>Looking over his own shoulder, Dean’s grin only grows more mischievous. “Yep, a special order. Gonna be a whole set. I’m even getting together upholstery.” He shrugs, turning back towards Castiel. “Don’t got a deadline, though, so I’m workin’ on it now and kinda thinkin’ I’ll be done before my first client calls.” </p><p>“I see,” Castiel says. He sends Dean a small smile. “I’ll go home and enjoy some of that bread, now.” </p><p>Dean <i>winks</i>, the sun bringing out his freckles and brightening his eyes. “See ya later, Cas.” </p><p>When Castiel is alone in his kitchen, spreading butter on his warm bread and reading the daily newspaper, he feels a small smile curling his lips and lifting his cheeks. </p><p>What a bright soul Dean has.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tomatoes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since retiring, Castiel has become well-versed in things that normal people call ‘hobbies’. He’s gotten especially good at cooking and baking, things that hadn’t seemed too important before. Oh, he cooked himself food frequently, but he never really gave it much thought, and didn’t really try new recipes that often. But now he has time, and he has resources, so he’s been stepping out of his little box bit by bit. </p>
<p>Dean’s u-pick garden is flourishing. Other neighbors often stop by to chat with Dean and pick from his garden. There’s Charlie and Gilda, the beautiful and sweet couple from the end of the block; there’s Dean’s brother Sam and his wife Eileen, who tend to stay longer and pick vegetables on their way out; there’s the rough n’ tumble Bobby and Rufus, who both run a business together and pretend that they’re not excited to pick vegetables to take home; there’s Lisa and Ben, a mother and son duo that also tend to linger around Dean’s house and chat him up. </p>
<p>Lisa brings radiant smiles out of Dean - so does Ben - and whenever Dean kisses her on the cheek in farewell, something twists inside of Castiel. </p>
<p>It’s an emotion he doesn’t quite understand. He’s had a few boyfriends and girlfriends in the past, but nothing really stuck. They either grew tired of him or he of them, never giving them much thought after they left. No one has lived with him, he’s never lived with anyone, and nothing’s ever lasted six months. Dating as a… well… older man is hard, and in the past ten years he’s just sort of given up on it. He’s worked hard at his job, always progressing and promoting, and hasn’t sought out companionship in quite some time. He’s got his hand and some toys for the more carnal part of things, but other than that, he finds dating to be quite trifling. </p>
<p>First dates are the worst. The get-to-know-yous always seem hollow and empty, his dates usually attracted to his wallet and his body rather than doing their best to see how his mind works and parse out who he is as a <i>person</i>.</p>
<p>Is it so bad to want a deeper connection with someone?</p>
<p>In this day and age, it seems so. </p>
<p>At forty-nine, he figures he probably won’t find love. </p>
<p>And surprisingly, he’s ok with that.</p>
<p>Since retiring, he’s found peace and purpose in life. He exercises in his spare bedroom using weights and equipment, now feeds himself good and delicious food, has a neighbor he talks to nearly every day; even Balthazar has become a more prominent figure in his life, always up for coming over for dinner and a glass of wine on the weekends to whine and complain about how he’s inherited Castiel’s workload and how Crowley is extra grouchy now that he’s gone. </p>
<p>Castiel doesn’t even try to hide his smirks whenever Balthazar complains, because Balthazar’s the one who told him to retire in the first place.</p>
<p>But yes, dating isn’t even on Castiel’s radar. Not when it takes so much effort and he’s finally coming into his own, so late in life. Besides, what’s that saying? “You must learn to love yourself before you can love another”? He’s starting to understand and see the merit of those words. </p>
<p>However, whenever he thinks of ever having someone in his life, green eyes and shimmering freckles always elbow their way to the forefront of his mind. It’s ridiculous and farfetched, though. Dean is more than half his age (when Castiel found out he’s <i>twenty-three</i> he nearly had an aneurysm), so vibrant and full of life and youth and energy, not to mention he seems to have a connection with Lisa and her son… He likely thinks of Castiel as his old, occasionally grumpy neighbor. </p>
<p>Which is exactly what he is, but aside from that, Dean probably doesn’t have any interest in him. All of their interactions have been friendly, nothing more. Castiel <i>shouldn’t</i> want more. </p>
<p>And yet… </p>
<p>“Heya, Cas!” Dean calls as he rounds his driveway and meets Castiel by his u-pick garden. “Whatcha thinkin’ about so hard?” </p>
<p>… It’s Dean who has helped Castiel figure out how to finally fit inside his own skin.</p>
<p>Lying through his teeth, Castiel replies smoothly with, “Whether or not I know any good recipes that involve tomatoes, or if I need to look something up.” </p>
<p>“Oh man, so many good things are made from tomatoes,” Dean says, dropping to his knees. He’s barefoot and bare-handed again, navigating through the tomato plants, seemingly looking for the ripest ones. Proving Castiel’s suspicions, he plucks a few juicy, perfect ones from the vines, staying on his knees and holding them up to Castiel with a bright smile. Some shimmer flickers in the sunlight near his shoulders. “Marinara sauce for pizza or spaghetti, caprese with mozzarella for paninis or salad, hell- you can even make tomato <i>bread</i>, isn’t that crazy?” </p>
<p>Reaching down to gently take the four large tomatoes in Dean’s palms, Castiel sends him a fond smile. This is why he likes Dean so much. He’s just so… positive, nothing but good vibes radiating off of him nearly at all times. It’s infectious, even to a crotchety old man like himself. “Those are all viable options, and recipes I know well. Thank you, Dean.” </p>
<p>Dean stands up, brushing dirt and grass off of the knees of his jeans. He then claps his hands to clear them off, his beautiful, plush lips still parted in a sweet smile to reveal his charming teeth. Green glitter falls from his hands alongside dirt and dust. “No problem, Cas. I gotta get back to work- I’m almost done with my project!” </p>
<p>Nodding his head, Castiel brings the tomatoes to his chest so he doesn’t drop any of them. “Of course, Dean. Have a good day.” </p>
<p>Throwing him a salute, Dean walks back down his driveway to the garage to continue doing whatever he’s been doing that involves sanding wood for the past four hours. Castiel wonders how he does it, then reminds himself that Dean is young, <i>so</i> young, and seems to have endless reserves of energy. </p>
<p>When he gets back to his home and sets the tomatoes on the counter in his kitchen, he pulls out his phone to start Googling some recipes. He catches himself smiling as he finds one, starting to work. </p>
<p>He quite enjoys his newfound hobbies of cooking and baking, though he hasn’t shared anything with Dean since the zucchini bread.</p>
<p>He thinks Dean will quite like what he’s managed to figure out for today’s recipe.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>“Somethin’ smells good!” Dean crows as he brings out the last chair of the, quite clearly, patio set he’s created. The wood is all stained dark, custom whorls and pretty arches showing how unique and custom-made they are. The chairs look extra relaxing, their backs reclined slightly at an angle, the cushions on their seats looking fluffy but not too soft, upholstered with what looks like flannel of various colors. The table is polished and stained dark as well, square and not too large, perfect to house the six chairs around it neatly.<p>Castiel stands at their fence, holding a plate with a meal still steaming on it. He’d made tomato bread, as the notion intrigued him, and then used it to grill up caprese paninis with a side of homemade kale chips. Dean cleans off his hands with a rag and nearly dances over to Castiel, eyeing the plate hungrily, clearly knowing without words that Castiel has brought it over to feed him. </p>
<p>“You’ve got good timing, buddy,” Dean declares, happily taking the plate from Castiel when it’s offered. He takes a huge bite of the sandwich, then nods over towards the patio set. “S’yours.” </p>
<p>Widening his eyes in surprise, Castiel looks over at the beautiful set. “What?” </p>
<p>“Saw your Ikea patio furniture,” Dean says with a grin, stuffing more food in his mouth. “S’ugly and non-functional, man. How you gonna have backyard grills with that small table and two chairs?” </p>
<p>“Well firstly, I would have to have backyard grills,” Castiel replies, slightly dazed. He then looks towards Dean, who is happily crunching on the kale chips as he admires his work. “Dean, you didn’t have to.” </p>
<p>“F’course I didn’t,” he says with a shrug, swallowing so his cheeks are empty, sending Castiel a warm smile. “I wanted to.”</p>
<p>“Six chairs is a lot,” is the next thing that comes out of Castiel’s mouth.</p>
<p>“Look at my setup,” Dean says, gesturing towards his back porch. It’s concrete and only large enough to have one lawn chair on it, the very same lawn chair that Castiel has seen Dean enjoying a cup of coffee on before he starts his day, every day since Spring turned. “Not very good for havin’ guests.” He then points at Castiel’s back deck. “Now look at <i>your</i> setup.”</p>
<p>Castiel looks at his deck critically. He’s never been particularly fond of it, as it came with the house and he had no idea what to do with it, but now with Dean’s perspective, he sees how it could be a lovely gathering place. The furniture Dean made contrasts beautifully with the deck and the overhang that comprises of weather-treated cherrywood. Frowning a little, Castiel chews his lip. He’s lived here for over twenty years and has never considered… gatherings.</p>
<p>“I don’t have guests, Dean.” </p>
<p>“Maybe you should,” Dean says with a shrug. “We got a lotta cool neighbors, y’know.” </p>
<p>Feeling a bit of anxiety swirl in his gut, Castiel returns his gaze to the other man. “I don’t know…” </p>
<p>“Look, between my garden and your mad skills, we could throw a ragin’ grill-up, man,” Dean says with a grin. “If it’s alright with you, I can store my barbecue on your deck, near the edge where the roof doesn’t cover.” </p>
<p>Castiel looks at that corner critically. He’d had no idea why his roof didn’t cover all of his deck, but he understands now. “I… suppose…”</p>
<p>Dean licks his fingers clean, handing Castiel the empty plate and beaming. “Great! I can put a sign in the garden. What day works best for you?”</p>
<p>A sweat breaks out on his brow. Dean’s a hurricane. “This seems a little soon-”</p>
<p>“How ‘bout a week from now? I can supply the meats and breads, you just gotta worry about making some awesome dishes aside from the grill-up. I know Charlie and Gilda are vegan and my stupid brother is vegetarian, but I think together you and I could master a backyard cookout.” </p>
<p>“Dean-” </p>
<p>“Hey,” he’s interrupted by Dean reaching out and gently grasping his bicep. His eyes are soft, his smile warm and comforting. Where his fingers touch, Castiel feels coolness and calm resonating through his body. “It’ll be alright. No strangers, just neighbors. They’ve all got pretty low expectations, y’know? We’ve all been talkin’ ‘bout having a get-together now that the weather’s decent.” </p>
<p>Frowning, wondering why his anxiety’s gone, Castiel still feels a little worried, but much more… controllable. “<i>Two</i> weeks from now. You must understand, Dean, I’ve never been a very social person.” </p>
<p>“S’why you only have one person over on the weekends right?” Dean asks, his tone of voice jovial and kind, but something shaded in his eyes. </p>
<p>“Balthazar has been in my life for many years, and even he alone is hard for me to handle,” Castiel confesses.</p>
<p>“Yeah, significant others can be like that,” Dean says off-handedly.</p>
<p>That makes Castiel frown harder in confusion. “Significant-? Dean, Balthazar was a coworker. He is the only person I’ve kept in touch with.” </p>
<p>That shade in Dean’s eyes lightens a fraction, gold specks of glitter fluttering through his irises. “He’s not your boyfriend?” He drops his hand from Castiel’s bicep, though there’s a residual calm left behind. </p>
<p>“No,” Castiel reaches up to rub the fingers of his free hand against his temple. This isn’t the first time someone has mistook him and Balthazar for an item. “I’ve been single for quite some time. I’m too old to date casually.” </p>
<p>“Huh,” Dean laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “But- still. He’s all you invite over ‘cause you… have social anxiety? Or- hey if I’m being too nosy tell me to back off.” </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Castiel reassures him. “I suppose I’ve never talked about it with anyone. I’ve never considered it, but social anxiety is something I do have. At work I had to ignore it so I could be professional with coworkers and clients, but now that I know the peace of solitude, imagining multiple people in my space…” he returns to looking at his deck, a thoughtful expression on his features. </p>
<p>“Two weeks,” Dean finally agrees. “And if you wanna call it off at any time, it’s alright.”</p>
<p>“This will be good for me,” he finally decides. “I’ve spent so much time limiting my social interaction to necessary people, I think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a gathering that has no underlying reason other than to have people gathered.” He looks at Dean, though his smile is a little reserved. “Thank you, Dean.” </p>
<p>“Don’t thank me yet,” Dean chuckles. “In fifteen days you might wanna kill me.”</p>
<p>“A death I’m sure you’re prepared for,” Castiel says blandly, before turning around and heading back into his house.</p>
<p>Dean’s laughter follows him.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>It’s the day of the barbecue. Dean’s brother Sam and his wife Eileen came over early to help spruce things up a bit for the occasion. Eileen brought lots of pretty lights and baubles, telling Castiel she’s always wanted a nice backyard like this to decorate. It’s interesting, because Castiel has never seen his yard in any sort of spectacular light. But lovely Eileen, who signs while she talks and laughs so freely, sees potential in his yard; the same potential that Dean saw, as well.<p>Together they set up the lights and tiki torches while Dean and Sam set up the grill and the patio furniture. Sam brought over some yard games, giant jenga and cornhole and other bits and pieces, Castiel’s neatly cut grass punctuated by, well, fun. </p>
<p>Eileen follows Castiel into the kitchen. He likes her presence; she’s not overbearing with her energy, her vibe much closer to Castiel’s level. He thought he heard Dean once declaring Sam his younger brother, but when he has a moment to ask, Eileen reveals that she and Sam are five years older than Dean. The pieces don’t quite add up, but he doesn’t think about it too hard. As an only child, he never had the chance to explore sibling dynamics.</p>
<p>She helps him prepare the salads. Between chopping and prep she teaches him a few words in ASL; the standard “please”, “thank you”, “hello”, “how are you / I’m well” phrases before she teaches him some silly things like “if I don’t eat I will die” (she says that’s Dean’s favorite) and “moose” for Sam, as well as “Princess Eileen” when she’s feeling cheeky. Castiel catches on quickly and impresses her easily - in turn she catches on to his recipes, which she says she will hold onto for the future when she feels like spoiling Sam.</p>
<p>Outside guests start to arrive. Charlie and Gilda amplify the noise, Dean and Charlie getting loud and rowdy while Gilda enters the kitchen to properly introduce herself to Castiel and ask if she can help. The extra hands are nice, though Castiel is still nervous about a gathering of people. He hears Lisa and Ben arrive, Ben yelling at Dean that he’ll beat him at cornhole, to which Dean loudly crows “hell no”. Lisa also enters the kitchen, though a bit shyly, greeting Castiel and the other girls before offering help.</p>
<p>It’s… strange, but good. They follow direction well and Castiel feels like head chef in his own kitchen. All of the girls have some semblance of cooking skills, so it’s easy. The salads come together, the bread gets sliced, the condiments get pulled out of the fridge and the salad dressings get made. Sam dodges inside to ask how the table should be set, so that task gets done. Charlie pokes her head in, sees the crowded kitchen, then announces she will wait until everything is done so she can help bring items out. </p>
<p>When Bobby and Rufus show up the chaos explodes. Castiel is happy he’s inside so he can get used to the noise, first and foremost. The girls are chattering happily around him, occasionally bringing him into the conversation, but Castiel has a feeling that Dean may have talked to them all beforehand and warned them that he might be a bit reticent. Which, honestly, should annoy him, but in the thick of things, he’s grateful for Dean’s care. </p>
<p>Finally, Dean fires up the grill, which is the signal for them to bring out the salads and appetizers. The table gets set with the tasty food, and Castiel sees that Dean brought over a smaller, foldable table as well as some foldable chairs for the overflow of people, set prettily on the deck as well with a durable looking table cloth. </p>
<p>All in all, things go well. Castiel joins conversations when he feels comfortable to do so. Rufus and Bobby find camaraderie in him when they find out he’s only ten years shy of their ages, but he surprises himself when he manages to hold decent conversations with everyone. </p>
<p>Except Ben. Children mystify him. </p>
<p>The get together lasts about five hours before people start breaking off. It’s Sunday, so most of them have to get ready for a work week. The last to go are Dean, Sam, and Eileen, for which Castiel is thankful. He’s a bit jittery after all of the interaction and needs a bit of a cool down of sorts. Eileen helps him in the kitchen to pack away leftovers and do the dishes (Castiel suggests that she and Sam take the majority of the leftovers, which causes her eyes to go bright and profess her thanks) while Sam and Dean clear up the backyard. When all is said and done the sun is well past set, the four of them gathering on the deck to sit at the pretty table Dean fashioned, sweaters donned and hot toddies in front of them. </p>
<p>“So, Cas,” Dean says. They haven’t really talked much at all today, Dean taking the brunt of the conversations and saving Castiel so many times, he has no idea how to thank him. “Whatcha think?” </p>
<p>“It was…” he wraps his hands around his warm mug. “...tolerable.” </p>
<p>Dean and Sam chuckle, while Eileen reaches out to grip Castiel’s wrist encouragingly. </p>
<p>“I think you are very brave,” she says, signing the word ‘brave’ at the end. “Dean told us you were nervous.”</p>
<p>Sending a small smile to Eileen, Castiel nods. “I was. But this was alright.” He shoots Dean a glance. “<i>I</i> set the date for the next one.”</p>
<p>Grinning, Dean lifts his hands up in innocence, before picking up his drink and taking a deep gulp. </p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Sam turns a smile to Castiel as well. “If you’d be cool with it, I think all of us would like gathering here occasionally to catch up. A lot of us visit Dean’s garden for the good stuff, but we’re all so busy it’s hard to hang around.”</p>
<p>“I think it’s something I can warm up to.” He shoots Dean another glance. “Though perhaps one day people could stop handling me with ‘kid gloves’.” </p>
<p>“Hey, I was lookin’ out for you,” Dean says, affronted.</p>
<p>Castiel hides his smile behind his mug. “Mhm.” </p>
<p>“Dean has a good heart,” Eileen says, sending Dean a slightly exaggerated look. “He doesn’t always show it the right way.” She signs something to Dean without speaking, and Castiel is fascinated when he blushes and splutters.</p>
<p>“Knock it off!” Dean glares at Sam. “You too. I know you’re in on it together. Stop it.” </p>
<p>Instead of inquiring, even though he is quite curious, Castiel takes a sip of his warm drink, feeling the honey sweet on his tongue contrasting with the richness of the whiskey. </p>
<p>“I think it’s time for us to go,” Sam says, sending Castiel a warm smile and reaching out to clap him on the shoulder, a move identical to Dean’s and just as comforting. “Take care of yourself. And thanks for the leftovers!”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome,” Castiel says. He signs “goodbye” to Eileen.</p>
<p>Eileen signs and speaks, “See you soon.” </p>
<p>After they leave, it’s just Dean and Castiel on the back deck, sitting across from each other and nursing their drinks. The fragrance of the cinnamon and honey is rich around them, both of them content to sip in silence as they look out at the yard, as well as up into the horizon of the night sky, the clouds clear and the stars on full display. </p>
<p>“Hey, Cas?” </p>
<p>“Mmm?” </p>
<p>Dean’s voice is soft and intimate. “You did really good today.” </p>
<p>“I had help,” Castiel says, his tone mirroring the softness of Dean’s.</p>
<p>“We make a pretty good team, huh?” </p>
<p>“I’d say so.” He chances a glance at Dean, his gut swooping when he sees that Dean was already looking at him, first. </p>
<p>Dean just smiles softly, unbothered at being caught. </p>
<p>Together they watch the stars, only retiring when Castiel starts to shiver. </p>
<p>He goes to bed that night thinking about how his anxiety for the gathering disappeared bit by bit, aided by hearing Dean’s laugh, seeing his smile, occasionally feeling his touch whenever they brushed and he’d reach out to give him a reassuring pat. </p>
<p>Beyond attraction, there’s something about Dean. </p>
<p>Castiel dreams of glitter and smiles.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Lettuce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It doesn’t take long for Castiel to notice that Dean… doesn’t sleep? Or doesn’t sleep for very long? He’s always out and about doing something. Fiddling in the garage, fiddling on his car, fiddling in his garden. He’s always up before Castiel and doesn’t retire until after him. At least, he thinks so. He has no way of knowing. As the weather warms Dean’s energy spikes. Even on rainy days he’s out and about like he’s entirely unbothered by less than perfect weather, barefoot and soaked through. </p><p>It’s… odd. </p><p>Castiel still feels like the crotchety, nosy neighbor, so he tries not to pay too much attention to Dean’s habits, but their houses are so close together it’s hard <i>not</i> to notice. They’re the only houses on the block that are situated so neatly together; everyone else has quite a bit of space between their lots and houses but not only do Dean and Castiel share a fence, there’s even a gate adjoining them. Castiel can’t remember if he ever noticed the gate before Dean moved in. He’s lived in this house for more than twenty years but never knew the previous neighbors, never paid attention to his yard like this before. </p><p>Hm. </p><p>As the weather warms Castiel starts taking his coffee and breakfast pastries onto the back deck. His deck faces North, staying shadowed for most of the day save for the sunrise and sunset, but the wood absorbs the heat from the warmth of the sunrise now and becomes quite a comfortable hub in the morning. Today Dean’s clunking around in his furniture garage, singing along to some pop song as he works. Castiel can’t see him from his seat, but he can imagine Dean’s hips moving, his head bobbing and feet tapping along to whatever song he’s listening to. No matter the odd hours Dean keeps, he’s always respectful, never making a lot of noise until after eight a.m. and stopping all clanging after ten p.m.</p><p>Castiel’s pretty sure no one else in the neighborhood can hear him, anyway.</p><p>Ten minutes after he has a seat, Dean comes out of the garage whistling, waving brightly when he sees Castiel. He returns the wave, arching a brow when Dean allows himself through the gate and hops up the deck steps to flop into a chair next to him. Dean’s dressed in the same ratty jeans he seems to have multiple pairs of, his thin t-shirt stretched over his chest, nipples perking as soon as he hits the shade of Castiel’s deck. He doesn’t wear shoes even when he’s working on furniture, which is surely a safety hazard, but Castiel doesn’t comment in case it’s some sort of… <i>thing</i>.</p><p>“Mornin’,” he greets.</p><p>“Good morning,” Castiel replies. </p><p>“You busy today?”</p><p>“Quite,” Castiel replies, droll. “Between cleaning my house for the fifth time this week and staring at the wall I’m not sure I have time for anything else.”</p><p>Laughing, Dean claps Castiel on the shoulder. Something gets in Castiel’s nose, causing him to sneeze into his own elbow. When he lowers his arm he sees Dean grinning broadly.</p><p>“I’ve got a couple complete sets hangin’ out in my garage. I spent all morning makin’ a little photobooth. Well- not little ‘cause furniture is pretty big, but I made a backdrop. I got white and black rolls for it, depending on what the furniture looks like against it.”</p><p>“Ah, good,” Castiel says. “I can also change the color of the backdrop in photoshop if necessary.”</p><p>“Sweet,” Dean says. “Anyway- I figure I’ve got enough different pieces in stock right now, we could start shooting for the gallery?”</p><p>Nodding, Castiel puts his coffee mug on the table. “I’ve already got the website set up. Would you like to see it?”</p><p>Dean shakes his head. “Nah- I trust you. S’long as people can access it on mobile we’ll be good to go.” </p><p>“Did you get a Square?” </p><p>Dean wrinkles his nose. “Yeah, but I prefer to do things in cash…”</p><p>“As your prices raise it will be best for you to take digital payment,” Castiel says. “Supply and demand will make it easier for people to pay through the website.” </p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Dean blows a raspberry with his breath, but sends Castiel a small smile. “Thanks again, man. You’re makin’ all this super easy.” </p><p>“You’re the easiest client I’ve ever had,” he replies honestly. “If all clients were like you, retiring wouldn’t have been so appealing.”</p><p>Snorting, Dean nods. “I bet.” He stands up. “Well- whenever you’re ready, come on over. I’ll rig up the lights.”</p><p>“See you soon.” </p><p>Castiel watches Dean go down the steps. He’s alway so light and airy and graceful, sometimes it looks like his feet don’t touch the ground at all. </p><p>Hm.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Dean’s setup is impressive. He’s got the backdrop and lights rigged perfectly. Castiel has his camera, tripod, and reflectors with him as he walks into Dean’s furniture garage for the first time. One side of the space is a huge; a long work bench is built into the wall, the back wall has furniture mounted on it like one would mount trophies, and then the main space and the other side of the garage is filled with projects, both complete and incomplete. There was plenty of opportunity for this garage to be overwhelming and disorganized, and yet it’s anything but that. It’s reminiscent of Mary Poppins’ bag- unassuming on the outside, but on the inside able to house anything one could think of. Much larger, too.<p>Hm.</p><p>“Hey!” Dean greets. He’s in the process of using a dolly to wheel a glossy oak wardrobe onto the white drop cloth in front of the white background. </p><p>“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. There’s a perfect spot in front of the backdrop to start setting up his equipment. He’s surprised Dean has never done this before, based on how good this looks alone. “This looks amazing.” </p><p>The other man grunts as he puts one foot on the dolly bar and lets the other foot float behind him. For a moment, it doesn’t look like he weighs enough to let the wardrobe down, but that’s ridiculous- Dean is tall and muscled and looks like he might weigh more than Castiel does. But for just a second, just a wibbly wobbly moment, it looks like the dresser might fall backwards and land on top of him. Another grunt, another push of his arms, a trick of the light… and then the dresser very neatly lands on the drop cloth. Dean hops off of the dolly and pulls it away, not out of breath at all as he wheels along.</p><p>“Thanks, man,” he finally answers. “Y’know, I figure if the furniture thing doesn’t work out for me I can soundproof this whole place and operate a porn studio.”</p><p>Castiel’s jaw drops.</p><p>Dean cackles a laugh. “Anyway, go ahead and set up, buddy. I’m gonna queue up more items so we can try and rotate ‘em in without too much hassle.”</p><p>“Do you need help?” Castiel asks reflexively. </p><p>“Nah,” Dean waves a hand over his shoulder, tossing a wink for good measure before he wanders off into the recesses of the shop. </p><p>Castiel’s eyes watch after him for a moment, squinting slightly. There’s something… odd about Dean. Well- aside from his clearly quirky personality and behavior. He’s noticed it before, but for some reason today it seems… amplified. Letting out a breath, letting his thoughts go with it, Castiel sets up his camera on his tripod, fixes some of the lighting, then approaches the wardrobe.</p><p>When he opens the cabinets some glitter whispers out. Without thinking about it he blows it away, reaching up to wipe the shelves with his hand. No dust. Clean. Smooth. He starts opening drawers, admiring the hardware Dean has paired with the wood. He’s quite the craftsman. It doesn’t take a lot to impress Castiel anymore, as he’s slowly learning to look at the world through a much less critical lens, but Dean is… extraordinary.</p><p>Everything about him is.</p><p>A clang in the back physically jolts Castiel out of his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he moves back to his camera, taking a few test shots. Dean’s work is surprisingly easy to photograph; sleek lines, classic lines, traditional lines. He’s got such a vast array. After figuring out which lens and which flash setup to use, shooting the items takes no time. Castiel sneaks in a few shots of Dean moving the furniture around, explaining that his customers would probably like to know from whom they’re ordering these lovely pieces.</p><p>He leaves out the fact that Dean’s beautiful face will help him drum up more business, his muscles bulging, green eyes youthful and bright as he laughs whenever Castiel says something sassy. </p><p>It takes a little over two hours to rotate through Dean’s current stock. He helps Dean deconstruct the backdrop and put everything away, then kneels down to start taking apart his own equipment and put it back where it belongs.</p><p>“Hey, uh,” he looks up to see Dean looking… shy?, rubbing his neck and averting his gaze. “I really do appreciate what you’re doin’ for me here. An’ I don’t really… y’know, know how to pay ya back, since you won’t take my money.” </p><p>“We’ve stipulated that I will continue to feed you dishes I create from your garden,” Castiel says easily, though something about Dean’s freckles darkening against his blush has Castiel wondering what else he <i>should</i> ask for.</p><p>“Ok, but, you were already doin’ that,” Dean says with a huff. </p><p>Some glitter falls onto Castiel’s camera case. He blows it off, stands up, then carefully shoulders everything he brought with him as he turns his attention to Dean. The man is pouting, even though he’d swear up and down that he’s not. “I’ll think about it, Dean. For now I’m going to get the website set up, I’m going to book a few Facebook and Instagram ads - which, <i>those</i> you may reimburse me for - but I don’t need anything else, Dean.” He allows himself to smile, if not to try and ease the concerned frown on Dean’s face. “If I think of something, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>“You better,” Dean grumbles. He then sighs, “Fine.” He’s trying to look contrite, but he only manages to look like a wounded puppy. “See ya later, Cas.” He turns around to disappear back into his shop, leaving Castiel in his driveway.</p><p>Sighing at the dramatics, Castiel goes through the now permanently open gate between their backyards, heading into his home. Dean’s young, he tells himself. And perhaps he cares a little more than he should about things.</p><p>But… is that it?</p><p>Later that night, when Castiel is taking off his shirt to prepare for bed, he watches as some glitter cascades down onto his comforter. </p><p>What <i>is</i> it about Dean?</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>The next items Castiel stocks up on are lettuce and kale. He already has an idea of what he wants to make, so after he lets the greens soak and he cleans them, he gets to work. He’s never made chicken salad from scratch before, but he finds that he loves it; loves that he can add everything that he thinks elevates it. Sesame seeds, red onions, chopped grapes, some dried cranberries. He uses his own homemade avocado mayonnaise, salt, and pepper to mix it all up together, and when he tastes a spoonful, he nearly swoons. Who knew one could want to kiss themself for their own meal?<p>The lettuce wraps are beautiful. He carefully cuts the lettuce to bite-size, puts a dollop of the chicken salad on them with two pickle chips, then toothpicks them together. He arranges them prettily on a serving platter he’d splurged on, one with blue and green seashells lining the edges. In the middle he has three different types of mustard in glass ramekins in the middle of the plate and hm, maybe he missed his calling as a caterer?</p><p>In a bowl are his perfectly toasted kale chips. Baked with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a dash (maybe… more than a dash) of cayenne, he’s pretty sure he’s found his new addiction. He takes both dishes outside to the back deck, putting them on the beautiful table that Dean had crafted. He goes back inside to get the hand-squeezed lemonade he’d made himself, pulling some ice and frozen strawberries out of the freezer to fill two glasses with before taking them out to the table as well.</p><p>Now that everything is all set up, Castiel takes the hand towel from his shoulder and wipes his palms free of fruit juice and whatever else might be on them. The gate in their fence is still open, so he passes through it easily. For once he doesn’t hear the ambient noises of Dean working in the garage or the shop, which is… minorly unsettling. He takes a quick tour of both, and when he doesn’t find Dean, he frowns as he looks at the door to Dean’s house.</p><p>He’s never been inside Dean’s house. Granted- Dean’s never been inside his, either. He’s always kept to the back deck, saying he doesn’t want to intrude on Castiel’s space. Not that Castiel has exactly <i>invited</i> him in. </p><p>Hm. </p><p>Approaching the back steps to Dean’s house, Castiel knocks on the screen, waiting patiently. </p><p>“Hold on!” Dean yells from somewhere inside. There’s a lot of commotion, then Dean’s pulling open the solid wood back door, the screen jostling with the change in air. He’s pulling a shirt over his head, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Castiel’s ears bend a little when the front door of Dean’s house opens and then slams shut, someone clearly leaving without being seen.</p><p>Arching a brow to cover up the horrible sinking feeling in his gut, Castiel clears his throat politely. “Good afternoon, Dean.”</p><p>“Shit,” Dean pats his jeans, which are still undone, a few times before procuring his watch. “Fuck, it’s almost two?” </p><p>“I see you’re behind on schedule today,” Castiel says, taking a step down, backing away from the way his heart is twisting and breaking behind his ribs. His tone is curt when he says, “I won’t hold you back from righting that.”</p><p>Panic flitters across Dean’s face. “Wait, Cas-”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Castiel cuts him off sharply. Oh, no. Why does this feel so bad? He takes another step off of Dean’s porch, then another until he’s on his driveway. “I’m sure you have things to do.” </p><p>Dean fumbles, trying and failing twice before he opens his screen door. Seeing him in full daylight looking rumpled and freshly sexed puts a foul taste in Castiel’s mouth. “Didja make lunch?”</p><p>“I can put it in containers and deliver it later, it will keep,” Castiel says, doing his best to turn and walk away. </p><p>“Cas!” Dean’s feet must barely touch the ground, as they make no sound before he’s reaching out and gripping Castiel’s bicep. “Please don’t go,” he pleads.</p><p>“Your personal business is none of mine,” Castiel says succinctly without turning around. He doesn’t know if he says it for Dean’s sake or his own. His bare skin tingles where Dean holds it. “There is currently no reason for me to be here. I’ll bring the food over later.” </p><p>Dean lets go, not saying anything. Castiel quickly moves to head through their fence, walking up the stairs of his deck with purpose. He can’t help the force of which he opens his sliding door with. Fingers shaking once he’s inside and out of sight, he fumbles around for tupperware containers until he finds something suitable to put the lettuce wraps in. When he peeks up to look into Dean’s backyard, the man is nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, Castiel boxes everything up save for the kale chips, hating that the pretty presentation will now be dampened by the restriction of plastic containers. He puts everything in the fridge, takes the bowl of chips, then makes his way to his living room. Sinking into the sofa he turns on the TV, turns the volume up, puts the bowl of chips on the table, then throws his arm over his eyes to try and get himself under control.</p><p>Dean’s a kid. </p><p>Dean’s an attractive, beautiful, wonderful kid who most definitely dates. It was probably Lisa, too, Castiel thinks bitterly. The attractive yoga instructor with long hair and the pretty smile and who is, most importantly, closer to Dean’s age..</p><p>Something ugly curls up in Castiel’s chest. </p><p>At some point he takes what Balthazar would call a “depression nap”, sinking into the beautiful oblivion that is his subconscious. </p><p>What a fool he is.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>“...as-”<p>Castiel groans, rolling over on his big sectional to try and cram himself into the crease of the back and the cushions.</p><p>“...Cas…!”</p><p>He lets out a louder, more annoyed groan.</p><p>“Cas!” </p><p>This time his name is accompanied by a loud, repetitive knocking against glass. Jolting up, Castiel rubs the drool from his mouth and now groans in full on exasperation. It’s Dean at his back door, calling for him and knocking like he’s trying to reach the dead. Standing, Castiel rights his sweatpants, adjusts his boxers, then pulls his shirt down over his hips as he stumbles blearily through his house to the kitchen door. </p><p>First, he opens the venetian curtains so he can try and glare Dean to death through the glass. Dean just glares back, the brave man, eyes narrowed and shoulders bristling, the setting sun casting rays against him and silhouetting him with gold and green shimmer. They glare at each other for all of a minute, before Castiel relents and slides open the door.</p><p>“What.” </p><p>“I need to talk to you,” Dean says, voice just as grouchy.</p><p>“Then talk.” </p><p>“I can’t- not out here.” </p><p>Castiel’s eyes narrow even further, though he feels a bit of bewilderment. Dean seems the type to just barge in, but he’s not. “Then… come in?” </p><p>Sighing in relief, Dean reaches to slide the door open wider so he can come in without scrunching in on himself. Definitely a barger, but at least a polite one. He glances around the kitchen for a moment, then sits down at Castiel’s table, rubbing a hand over his face. </p><p>“Look, this afternoon-”</p><p>“Dean, I’ve told you that you don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Castiel cuts in. He sits down across from the man, feeling a lot of the fight leaving him. He reaches up to rub his temples, slouching in his chair. “My behavior was inappropriate. I apologize.” </p><p>Dean frowns. “Cas, it- look. I think we both gotta clear the air.” </p><p>Sensing a conversation he doesn’t want to have, Castiel gets up, heading to the fridge. He pulls out the saved lettuce wraps, setting them on the table, then moves to the living room to retrieve the bowl of chips. He hadn’t grabbed the glasses from outside so he knows they’re a melted mush of water and fruit, so he ignores them for now and simply makes another two glasses. Dean allows him to work in silence, not saying a single thing until Castiel sits across from him. </p><p>Dean opens up one of the containers, a small smile curling his previously frowny lips. “Lettuce wraps?”</p><p>“Chicken salad lettuce wraps,” Castiel says. He refrains from opening the container in front of him. He’s not hungry.</p><p>Dean crams two of the bite-sized lettuce wraps into his mouth, chewing and humming in appreciation. It’s good to know that some things don’t change. After he takes a drink of lemonade and makes sure his mouth is empty, Dean lets out a breath and then levels Castiel with the most serious look he’s ever given him. </p><p>“I’m a fairy.”</p><p>“There are more PC ways to call yourself gay,” Castiel automatically responds, surprised he can talk over the lump in his throat.</p><p>“No, Cas,” Dean leans forward in his seat a little. The shimmer that follows him everywhere, day and night, suddenly manifests into a set of wings. Well- is that more than a set? Three wings on either side of him spread out, iridescent and beautiful as- no,  <i>more</i> beautiful than dragonfly wings. Green shimmer falls from them, the same green glitter that Castiel hasn’t thought twice of since meeting Dean, just assuming that… what? Dean does arts and crafts in his spare time? Dean has an affinity for sparkly things?</p><p>Because he’s “odd”, as Castiel’s been thinking?</p><p>What if he does?</p><p>What if he-</p><p>What if Dean’s a fairy?</p><p>“What.” Castiel says blandly. </p><p>Dean’s wings shimmer and flutter, reflecting his emotions perfectly. Castiel now understands that this whole time, these past few months that he and Dean have spent together, his wings have been so close, <i>right there</i>, just out of sight. </p><p>“Look,” Dean says, bringing Castiel’s attention back to his face. His ears- oh, his ears are… pointy, now, and his features have sharpened slightly, though he’s still so beautiful and- “The person that was at my house earlier today was my brother.”</p><p>Castiel flushes deeply.</p><p>“Not- oh my God, not like that!” Dean nearly yells. “He’s gotta come over every once in a while to help me control my magic. It takes a lot of effort to keep myself,” Dean gestures expansively to his body and his wings in one sweep, “contained so that… well… mortals don’t see the real me.” </p><p>“He’s not a fairy?”, is, for some reason, the first question that comes out of Castiel’s mouth.</p><p>“No,” Dean shakes his head. “He has fae blood but he never reached fae puberty. So… he’s magical, but he’s not like me. Mom was a fairy. Dad was a mortal.” He ruffles his sandy hair, now lightened to match his newly delicate features, eyes looking down at the table as he falls quiet. Castiel is quiet, too, trying to wrap his head around things. Dean idly fidgets with a kale chip, then lifts his gaze to look at Castiel, who can’t take his eyes off of Dean’s wings.</p><p>If he thought Dean was lovely before, he’s suddenly knocked out of the atmosphere with how he looks now.</p><p>“I…” Castiel’s mouth goes a little dry. “I thought Lisa was over and you were having intercourse.”</p><p>Dean splutters a bit, throwing his kale chip at Castiel. “What!”</p><p>Castiel doesn’t even flinch as the kale chip hits him in the chin. “You were flushed and getting dressed, and you and her seem to have a connection, so my mind supplied the obvious explanation that she was leaving and I interrupted you and therefore caused you to do an impromptu walk of shame.”</p><p>Dean’s eyes, wide and bright, blink at Castiel a few times before he buries his face in his hands and starts laughing uncontrollably. Castiel’s features draw tight, a frown crossing his lips. Some glitter sprinkles onto his table.</p><p>“What is so funny?”</p><p>“I just- you-” Dean waves a hand, peeking at Castiel through his fingers. “You thought me and Lis were together?” </p><p>Castiel huffs. “It’s not a wild conclusion to draw, Dean. You are very affectionate with her and she is very attractive.” </p><p>“And I’m an equal opportunist who has a much, <i>much</i> more attractive neighbor making all sorts of delicious meals for me, who also manages to be scary and hot and dumb and smart all at the same time.” </p><p>Castiel scowls, but some pink flushes his cheeks. “You’re a neanderthal.” </p><p>“I’m a fairy, not Shakespeare,” Dean says with a shrug, his wings moving with him. </p><p>“Why were you undressed?” Castiel can’t help but ask.</p><p>Dean shrugs, picking up another lettuce wrap. “‘Cause we gotta draw all these symbols and shit all over my body to contain the magic.” He gestures at his biceps. In the combination of the setting sunlight in the windows, Castiel’s light above his sink, and the glitter from his wing sparkles, incandescent tattoos appear and fade. Lines, runes and pretty symbols shift under the surface of his skin like blood in his veins, visible for only a fraction of a second. </p><p>“I’m gay,” Castiel says. His brain is scrambled with information, so he’s trying to grasp onto whatever words make sense and contribute to the conversation at hand.</p><p>“I figured you were somewhere near me on the kinsey scale,” Dean says with a small smirk.</p><p>“For you,” Castiel continues.</p><p>“Were you really valedictorian in high school?”</p><p>Now Castiel glares. “<i>Dean</i>-” </p><p>“Ok- ok-” Dean lifts his hands in innocence, chuckling. “Look, Cas. I figured, y’know? I mean, everyone else likes my garden too, but you’re it’s number one fan. <i>And</i> you’re the only person that brings me the spoils you make it with.”</p><p>Castiel blushes, but continues glaring. “You’re an assbutt.”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” Dean laughs. “But y’ain’t noticed that I… I’m into you, too?” </p><p>“I thought you were particularly annoying because I’m ‘fresh meat’,” Castiel says, using finger quotations.</p><p>“I like my meat on my burgers,” Dean says, though his eyes, with the faintest flecks of gold in them, rove over Castiel’s body. “But… I also like it off the bone.”</p><p>“If that’s some sort of cannibalistic pickup line, you are succeeding in weirding me out,” Castiel says flatly. He stands to start clearing up the mess of tupperware, but he’s moving around more for something to do rather than necessity. Dean is still (happily) eating, but Castiel now feels restless. “Who else knows?” </p><p>“Sammy, Eileen, couple people we trust, and… now you.” Dean licks his fingers clean, looking at Castiel with something like softness and vulnerability in his eyes. “I had to move to this neighborhood after… someone bad found me in the last neighborhood.” </p><p>Castiel clenches his teeth. “Someone bad?” </p><p>“A… hunter,” Dean says, looking down at the lettuce wrap in his fingers. “There are people out there that think all supernatural things are evil, Cas. Soon as the house next door freed up Sam got me in. This way he can help protect me.” </p><p>Pinching the bridge of his nose, Castiel leans against the counter and sighs. His heart hurts, aches, yearns, beats- this is a lot of information to take in. His head is having a hard time keeping up. Sorting through his thoughts, Castiel finally settles on one as he looks at Dean. “Will you be safe here?” </p><p>“Been keepin’ a low profile,” Dean says, then shrugs sheepishly. “S’why I was unsure about the website, y’know? If the wrong person sees my face it’s only a matter of time before they show up on my doorstep.”</p><p>Ice grips Castiel. “I haven’t posted the photos to the website yet-”</p><p>Waving a hand, Dean stands up as he starts snapping tupperware lids. “Cas, it’s ok. Another reason for me movin’ closer to Sammy was so he could safeguard the neighborhood and house against anyone tryna get in that don’t belong here. He’s not a novice.” </p><p>“Is Sam a witch?” </p><p>“Kinda,” Dean says. He puts some tupperware in the fridge, then moves next to Castiel at the sink so he can start washing the empty bowls. He’s got a soft, fond smile on his lips. “Kid’s not a fairy, but he ain’t no regular human. I think he could kick a witch’s ass.” </p><p>Quietly thinking while Dean washes out the tupperware, Castiel folds his arms over his chest and angles his body slightly so he can look at Dean. He’s still tall, still framed solidly, still high cheekboned and plush lipped. Still narrow hipped and bow legged, still boppy to whatever internal music plays in his head at all times… He’s still <i>Dean</i>. The only differences now are in the shape of his ears, from their pointy tips to their intricate canals, the cartilage much more complicated than a human’s; and, of course, his wings. Castiel looks over them thoughtfully. They don’t seem to have a frame, or even veins like a dragonfly’s, yet they take that shape. They shift from green to yellow to blue depending on how the light hits them. Glitter falls from them every time they twitch, which would normally annoy Castiel, but right now he’s fascinated. </p><p>“Hey,” Dean suddenly says, drawing Castiel’s attention to his features. Scratch what Castiel thought before- his cheekbones are <i>slightly</i> more angular, his lips a little more full, his cheeks rosy and his freckles standing out more pretty than ever. His eyes are concerned as he meets Castiel’s gaze. “You… You ok? Is this too much? We kinda covered a lot in this conversation-”</p><p>“I’ll recap,” Castiel says, holding up his thumb. “Number one, you’re a fairy. Number two, your brother is a… supercharged witch. Number three, you are not sleeping with Lisa. Number four, you’re keeping a low profile so hunters do not find you and hurt you. Number five…” Castiel now has all of his fingers up and his palm open, his voice softening a little as Dean moves closer to him. “...Number five…” </p><p>“You’re into me,” Dean says softly, reaching a soapy hand out to gently cup his palm over Castiel’s hip. “An’ I’m into you.” </p><p>Suddenly all of Castiel’s anxieties rise within him like acid reflux. “I’m so much older. I’m grouchy. I’m so old I’m <i>retired</i>. You’re young and vital and-”</p><p>“I stopped aging nine years ago, if that makes you feel better,” Dean cuts in. “M’ older than what I told you."</p><p>Castiel’s eyes narrow, “Then that means you will stay young while I will grow old and gray. Dean, I-” he’s not good at this whole ‘emotion’ thing, yet Dean invokes so many in him he feels dizzy with it.</p><p>“Cas, I dunno why you’re so insecure,” Dean says, frowning as he pulls Castiel closer to him. “So what if you’re twice my age? You’re <i>not</i> old and gray, you idiot. Well-” he suddenly grins, reaching up to Castiel’s short beard, touching the salt and pepper scattered through the hair, then slides his fingers up his jawline to thread his fingers through salt and pepper woven into brunet strands. “I like this. I like <i>you</i>. Get the stick outta your ass and calm down.” </p><p>Barely relaxing, one hand lifts to grip Dean’s wrist, the other hand lifting to hesitantly rest on the fae’s bicep. Squashing down all of his insecurities, relying on his logic and sound mind, Castiel lets out a slow, calming breath. “Are you sure?” </p><p>Dean’s face lights up so beautifully, Castiel wonders why he’d ever say or do anything to make him frown. “Yeah, Cas. Are you?” </p><p>Rolling his eyes, Castiel says grumpily, “Are you blind?” </p><p>Laughing, Dean leans in and slightly down to press his lips softly to Castiel’s. There aren’t sparks or fireworks, nothing zips through Castiel’s body, but… a comforting, warm sensation fills him up from the tummy out, grounding him and wrapping him up like a big cozy blanket. He returns the kiss, a simple press of the lips, their arms wrapping around each other as they melt into it and get familiar with one another. After a few moments they part, Castiel’s eyes catching sight of how Dean’s wings are vibrating behind him; when he tries to step back there’s an odd swooping sensation in his stomach. </p><p>Looking down, Castiel’s shocked to see them hovering six inches off the ground. Tightening his hold on Dean, he lets out an odd noise he’ll defy until the day of his death, while Dean lets out a hearty laugh.</p><p>“Sorry-” Very slowly, they lower down to the ground until the flat of Castiel’s foot is solid and sure on the hardwood. “Happens sometimes.” </p><p>Nodding stiffly, Castiel swallows to wet his dry throat, then pulls away slightly. Dean reaches up to put his finger under Castiel’s chin and turn him to meet his eyes, Dean’s features relaxed in a sort of soft happiness Castiel’s never seen before. </p><p>“I gotta go,” Dean says regretfully. “Still spell day, and I gotta go home and recharge so all of this-” he tosses his chin over his shoulder towards his wings, “-goes away.”</p><p>“I like them,” Castiel says without thinking.</p><p>He flushes. Dean grins. “I’ll figure somethin’ out.” </p><p>Parting, Castiel reaches up to adjust his shirt that Dean had scrunched up slightly during their kiss. “I will see you in the morning.” </p><p>Leaning in, Dean presses a soft, tender kiss to Castiel’s scruffy cheek. “Night, Cas.” </p><p>Dean basically floats out of the sliding door, disappearing from sight. That alone connects a few dots for Castiel, who rubs a hand over his features and lets out a slightly breathless, disbelieving chuckle. </p><p>The mystery of Dean Winchester has unraveled an inch or two. </p><p>Now, for all that Castiel is inexperienced in the dating realm… </p><p>He tips his head back, looking up at the ceiling. </p><p>… Dating a fairy is definitely not the definition of "easing into things".</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>amazing how well some of you know me 🧚♂️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Eggplant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a moment of silence for those hoping/wishing/thinking that dean was a stripper</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Balthazar-!” </p>
<p>“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, Cassie. I’m just going to say hello~”</p>
<p>Castiel stumbles onto his back deck after Balthazar. It’s their weekly get together. Balthazar has had nearly a bottle of wine to himself compared to Castiel’s single glass, but somehow his slinky friend has managed to get ahead of him on his determined journey to go meet Dean. Castiel had admitted that he and his neighbor are exploring the possibilities of a relationship and of course, like the dog he is, Balthazar immediately followed the bone. </p>
<p>For being much more inebriated than Castiel, Balthazar sure moves much quicker and more gracefully. By the time Castiel is through the gate that joins his and Dean’s yards Balthazar is sashaying into the furniture shop, whistling.</p>
<p>“Hel<i>lo</i>, cowboy,” comes Balthazar’s jaunty greeting.</p>
<p>Groaning to himself, Castiel enters the shop. It’s barely seven in the evening, the sun still high in the sky, the shop encased in shadows. Dean pops up from where he’d been crouched, turning off the electric sander so he can hold it with one hand and wipe his brow with the other. His hip is cocked, his clothes are filthy and sweaty, muscles bulging from working the power tool and…</p>
<p>He’s sure he’s seen less raunchy introductions to porn.</p>
<p>There’s the faintest shimmer behind the fae’s back when he sees Balthazar, but his nervousness dissipates immediately when he sees Castiel bringing up the rear. </p>
<p>“Uh, hey,” Dean greets unsurely as he stands. There’s glitter on his bare toes.</p>
<p>“Cassie, you really know how to undersell,” Balthazar says. He then holds out his hand towards Dean, “Nice to meet you, Cassie’s beau. I’m Balthazar, and I’m very offended we haven’t met until now.” </p>
<p>Dean takes Balthazar’s hand, arching a brow as a small smirk starts to curl his lips. “Nice to meet ya, Balthazar. Dean. To be fair, Cas hasn’t introduced us.” </p>
<p>A delicate shake of hands, then Balthazar is whirling on Castiel with a faux offended look. “He’s right, Cassie. Why have you been keeping him from me?”</p>
<p>“You mean protecting him from you?” Castiel replies dryly. </p>
<p>“I think I can manage on my own,” Dean says, gesturing to the various tools littered around him.</p>
<p>“Mmm, he’s got some bark,” Balthazar says, delighted. “Cassie tells me you’re a craftsman, Dean. Good with your hands and such.” </p>
<p>“Cas has seen my work,” Dean says, bending so he can put the sander down, missing the innuendo. He’s wearing his usual uniform of ratty jeans and a t-shirt stretched so tight over his chest and shoulders it’s obscene. Beautiful, but obscene. His nipples are so… perky. Castiel’s thoughts have never strayed so much when focused on a singular person. “He’s helped me with my website an’ stuff.”</p>
<p>“He also tells me you’re the sweet little birdie that encouraged him to be comfortable with hanging up his hat.” </p>
<p>“Well,” Dean shifts his gaze towards Castiel, still looking a little unsure, but offering a small smile. “He already wanted to. He just needed a little help.” </p>
<p>“Mmmm,” Balthazar’s gaze practically undresses Dean where he stands. “I think if I had encouragement like you I’d empty all my accounts and move to a deserted island.” </p>
<p>“Well this was nice,” Castiel finally cuts in, reaching out to grab his friend by the shoulder to pull him physically away from Dean. “But Dean is clearly busy, so we shouldn’t keep him from working.” </p>
<p>Balthazar allows Castiel to pull him away, though he walks backwards so he can keep, well, <i>admiring</i> Dean. Castiel can’t really blame him. “Do tell me when you have time for a commission! I could use a new bed frame, mine’s getting rather beat up as is-”</p>
<p>Castiel yanks Balthazar forward, putting him in front and practically kicking him through the gate and into his backyard. He uses his hands to push Balthazar up the stairs of his deck, Balthazar torn between laughing and protesting and doing a mixture of both until they’re both inside Castiel’s kitchen.</p>
<p>Dean’s melodious laughter follows them. </p>
<p>This is why Balthazar never, <i>ever</i> meets anyone Castiel knows outside of work. </p>
<p>“Cassie, where did all this glitter come from?”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>The following day, Castiel is in Dean’s garden. He left his shoes and gloves on his back deck, curious about gardening the way Dean does. Kneeling on Dean’s cushion that he leaves out for anyone to use, he lets his fingers sink into the moist dirt, feeling the cool dampness on his skin and the way the dirt sifts between his fingers. Dean’s garden grows and grows every day, even when he’s not tending it; Castiel is sure, now, that it’s fae magic that helps him have such a bountiful crop, one so large and one that comes to fruition so quickly despite all of the neighbors picking through it constantly. His garden plot is now fifteen-by-fifteen feet, a lovely square in the front corner of his lawn, close to the sidewalk with a small barrier of fragrant, vibrant flowers separating the vegetables from the pavement.<p>Dean’s adorable bamboo signs guide people to whichever vegetable they want. His narrow calligraphy boasts tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, onions… anything one can think of, it’s here. At least, until Dean adds another crop, and <i>then</i> perhaps it seems full. But Dean never exhausts options, the flowers and stems of vegetables so pretty and bountiful. </p>
<p>Today Castiel wants eggplants. He knows quite a few different recipes, from snacks to entire casserole dishes. Tomorrow will be the second neighborhood gathering in his backyard, so he’s doing his produce ‘shopping’ today so that he can do all of the washing, chopping, marinating, and prepping that can be done by the time the ladies arrive to help him assemble dishes.</p>
<p>The soft pitter patter of Dean’s feet barely skimming blades of grass catches his attention. He looks up to see Dean nearly floating towards him, the pair sharing smiles as Dean kneels down next to Castiel.</p>
<p>“Hey, you.” Dean greets, bumping their shoulders together affectionately. “Whatcha pickin’ today?”</p>
<p>“The usual,” Castiel replies, feeling warmth spread from his shoulders to his soul. “Plus eggplant. There are a lot of recipes I would like to try for tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Aw man, good idea,” Dean agrees. “I can make a <i>mean</i> eggplant burger.”</p>
<p>Castiel arches a brow. “I must have misheard you. I think you said that you want a burger that doesn’t ‘moo’ at you.” </p>
<p>“Hey, done right, plenty of veggie substitutes can ‘moo’,” Dean says with a laugh. “Just gotta marinate ‘em good.”</p>
<p>“Are you suggesting we have a completely vegetarian barbecue?” Castiel asks, wholly interested. Dean may be a fairy, but he has the appetite of a carnivore.</p>
<p>“I’m sayin’ it’d be fun to try,” the fae replies with a chuckle. He stretches out a little, pulling some stems up to reveal bulbous, fleshy beets. “Beets are good at mimicking the uh, meat juices. Shred ‘em up, mix ‘em with a few other things and boom! Got yourself a burger patty.” </p>
<p>“I’ll put you in charge of that,” Castiel says. He reaches towards the ‘eggplant’ sign which, appropriately, has an eggplant emoji sticker on it next to a water squirt emoji sticker. Dean’s maturity will never cease to amaze.</p>
<p>“Hey uh,” Dean settles back on his haunches, looking towards Castiel until their gazes meet. “You alright about last night? Balthazar is uh… y’know, he didn’t like, make me uncomfortable.”</p>
<p>Castiel arches a brow.</p>
<p>Huffing, Dean laughs. “I’m serious! I was a little surprised that I could hear him over my sander but he's kinda noisy.” </p>
<p>“Tell me about it,” Castiel says. He uses his fingers to dig around in the dirt, searching for a few big, ripe eggplants. After a moment, he looks towards his… friend? Boyfriend? Lover seems pushing it a little far. “Are <i>you</i> alright? I know you are finicky about who may see your shop space. It wasn’t wise of me to let Balthazar see it.”</p>
<p>Dean looks at Castiel with surprise, though his voice is a little measured when he asks, “Why would it be bad if someone saw my shop?”</p>
<p>Castiel sends him an unimpressed look. “I’m not sure what the actual magical term for it is, but your shop is basically Mary Poppins’ bag. Don’t think I didn’t notice when we were shooting for the catalogue.” </p>
<p>Laughing a little, Dean’s face melts into a grin. “Can’t get nothin’ by you, huh?”</p>
<p>“But everything can fly by Balthazar,” Castiel says with a nod.</p>
<p>“S’fine,” Dean says with a shrug, going back to rooting around in the dirt. “He was clearly focused on something other than the shop.”</p>
<p>Remembering how absolutely sinful Dean looked, covered in sweat and sawdust, shirt soaked at the pits and collar with sweat, a damp spot even at the top of the back of his jeans… Castiel clears his throat, looking back at the garden. “I daresay he’s more incorrigible than you.”</p>
<p>Dean whoops out a laugh, “See? I ain’t so bad!”</p>
<p>“Comparatively,” Castiel says dryly, though there’s a smile ticking the edges of his lips. </p>
<p>They lapse into silence as their fingers dig through the garden, the wicker basket Dean fashioned for Castiel sitting at his right leg, Dean’s knee bumping into his left. </p>
<p>“Hey, Cas?” </p>
<p>“Mm?” he hums in reply, pulling up a head of lettuce, shaking the clumps of dirt free.</p>
<p>“D’you wanna, like…” Dean’s voice has a weird edge to it, his body getting fidgety. Turning towards him, Castiel is surprised to see a blush dusted over his freckles. Catching him looking, Dean straightens his spine a little. “Wanna go on a date?”</p>
<p>Castiel knew this would come. Their sweet neighbor bubble is bound to expand and grow outside of their yards; he’s not against it, per se, but he already casts quite a bit of doubt on himself, wondering if he’ll even be able to keep up with Dean’s youthful energy. It would be one thing if Dean were just a young man, but the fact of the matter is that he’s a <i>fairy</i>, and in a late night binge of research and reading, Castiel learned that fairies have endless reserves of energy so long as their magic is kept sharp and frequently replenished. Which Dean said Sam helps him with, so Castiel very much knows that Dean keeps himself in tip top shape. </p>
<p>The getting up before the sun and not retiring until way after the moon rises would be the first hint, though. </p>
<p>But that’s just the beginning. Castiel is nearly half a century old and Dean is so… young and vibrant and <i>beautiful</i>. How can Castiel keep up? He wouldn’t be bothered by curious looks out in public, but would Dean? Surely he’d grow tired of the “why don’t you date someone your own age?” comments sooner or later. </p>
<p>Dean seems to see all of these things flicker through Castiel’s eyes. He scoots a little closer, “I mean- we don’t gotta go <i>out</i>, y’know? Could stay in. Have dinner, watch a movie.” </p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Castiel can’t help but say reflexively, “a boring date for your boring, old boyfriend.”</p>
<p>This causes Dean to frown. “You’re not boring.”</p>
<p>“But I am old,” Castiel says, turning back to the garden.</p>
<p>“Cas,” Dean leans in even more, his tone of voice disapproving. “You’re a grouch, not a pessimist. What’s up? You….” his tone turns a bit more reflective. “Do you not wanna… go out with me?” </p>
<p>How does a creature as beautiful and vibrant as Dean have self-confidence issues? Good job, Castiel. You’re an ass for making him feel that way. </p>
<p>“It’s not that, Dean,” he finally replies, shifting to sit on his rear so he can comfortably look at Dean to have this conversation. His knees ache. “Please don’t ever think it’s anything to do with you when I get negative. Quite frankly, it’s a habit I’ve tried hard to kick but… being alone for so long, I suppose I tend to forget how my attitude can impact others.” Looking down into his wicker basket, he sighs softly. “I am… concerned that one day something will happen that will cause you to look at me and remember that I am twice your age and can’t keep up.” </p>
<p>Spilling one’s guts is awful… but Castiel does feel lighter. He can’t remember a time that he’s ever been this forthcoming with <i>anyone</i>, including Balthazar. Yet with Dean, it comes natural.</p>
<p>Glitter rains into his lap. He turns his head to see Dean leaning closer to him, one of the fae’s hands lifting to tilt Castiel’s chin up slightly so their gazes can meet. With Dean on his knees and Castiel on his rear, their height difference is palpable. “I dunno what I gotta do to make you forget about our age difference. You’ll probably always think about it. But I think what you’re missing, Cas, is that I’m probably the most low maintenance person you’ll meet. I don’t gotta go out and have flashy dates and jump over the moon and park at makeout point. All I want is <i>you</i>, and anything we do together I could consider a date.” He gestures at the garden, then between them. “This? Garden date.” He points to their backyards. “Fence date.” He points to the shop. “Photo date.” He points at the wicker basket next to Castiel’s foot. “Food date.” </p>
<p>Castiel feels the tips of his ears burn. He can be such an ass. He should know better than to force his ‘crap’ on someone else. But… it does feel good to talk about it, and it feels doubly good to have Dean there to steer him by the shoulder and tell him he’s an idiot, more or less.</p>
<p>“Will that be enough?” Castiel finds himself wondering aloud. </p>
<p>“Have I ever given you the impression that it’s not?” Dean asks plainly.</p>
<p>The flush moves from Castiel’s ears to his cheeks. “No.”</p>
<p>“Good,” Dean says. He uses his finger under the softness of Castiel’s chin to draw him forward for a soft, slow kiss. </p>
<p>Allowing his eyes to close, Castiel melts into it, melts into Dean, melts into the feelings the fae invokes in him. Warmth, comfort, security… along with sparks of curiosity, trepidation, that feeling of being on the precipice. </p>
<p>When Dean pulls away, Castiel feels glitter dusting over his lips. He licks them, tasting confectioner’s sugar. </p>
<p>“Check this out,” Dean suddenly says, hefting up a large eggplant while waggling his eyebrows.</p>
<p>Rolling his eyes, Castiel throws a carrot leaf at his face.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Just like last time, Sam and Eileen show up early. Dean must have told them that Castiel knows about the great big secret, because Sam gives Castiel a huge hug and says “welcome to the family”, while Eileen points at Dean and shows Castiel how to sign ‘fairy’, followed quickly by “don’t sign that in public, though”, which makes Castiel think about how he’d scolded Dean for saying it out loud and causes him to chuckle idly.<p>The menu is all vegetarian today. Sam is inappropriately excited, though for some reason this amps up the bickering between the brothers. Eileen teaches Castiel how to sign a few vegetables, but when she’s teaching him how to sign ‘eggplant’ Dean nearly spits out his beer and yells loudly that she’s incorrect, signing correctly while thrusting his hands between her and Castiel. Smirking, Castiel has a feeling he knows what she was teaching him to sign, but he lets it be as they snicker between themselves and return to prepping the food. </p>
<p>People start filtering in after noon. Dinner will be served at five, though once again Castiel’s yard is decorated and prepared to entertain. When Lisa shows up Castiel is much warmer to her than last time, though if she notices anything different she doesn’t show it. Charlie and Gilda seem to be a bit more involved than normal, mostly Gilda keeping close to Castiel; he swears he sees a shimmer in the sunlight by her left ear when she turns her head, and when she catches his eye she sends him a playful wink.</p>
<p>Hm. </p>
<p>By the time everyone is gathered and seated for their boasted vegetarian barbecue, conversation is loud and boisterous. Bobby and Rufus make grumbled old man complaints about there being no beef, but of course as soon as they start eating that complaint dies and gets replaced with appreciative groans and requests for napkins. Sam looks all too pleased with himself, raising his brows smartly at Dean in a way that only little siblings can do. But it’s amusing, since most everyone thinks Sam is older than Dean, so really Castiel and Eileen share a laugh. Lisa finally opens up conversation with Castiel, asking him how he’s enjoying retired life and inviting him down to her yoga studio if his body starts complaining about not moving around as much as he used to. He takes her invitation to heart; he’d been unfair about his opinion of her before. </p>
<p>Also, his knees ache when it rains, so that’s as good incentive as any to pick up a new exercise practice.</p>
<p>The festivities last a little longer than they did last time, now that everyone has adopted Castiel into their ragtag family and he’s more comfortable with them. He’s… having fun, not that he’s surprised. This crew has their quirks but they all mesh together nicely, conversation never dying at any point. Dean flits around here and there but mostly keeps Ben occupied along with Charlie, the three of them playing games and causing a ruckus.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, dark has fallen and everyone is gone save for Dean, Sam, Eileen, as well as Charlie and Gilda. The women are inside with Castiel helping clean up and do dishes, Dean and Sam outside picking up the yard games and decorations. </p>
<p>As Gilda hands him a stack of plates, he sees some pink glitter sprinkled on the edges of one. His eyes dart up towards Gilda, who sends him another small, playful smile, her beautiful features warm and… </p>
<p>Hm. </p>
<p>Actually, her high features and the angles of her face reminds him of… </p>
<p>“Are you gonna stop checking out my wife or can I hand you these glasses?” Charlie asks cheekily.</p>
<p>Snapping out of it, Castiel flushes to his ears, reaching out to grab the glasses and set them on the counter next to the sink. “Apologies. I wasn’t- um, that is-” </p>
<p>“It’s ok,” Charlie reassures him, though she’s grinning as she wraps an arm around Gilda’s waist and pulls her towards her like she weighs nothing. “Pretty easy to get distracted by my <i>fairy</i> princess, huh?” </p>
<p>Castiel blinks wide eyes. </p>
<p>Next to Charlie, Eileen signs, “Fairy”, along with another sign that surely means “princess”.</p>
<p>His eyes widen further. </p>
<p>Eileen rolls her eyes, saying, “Come on, Cas.” </p>
<p>“Right-” Castiel clears his throat. “I didn’t know. I- well, that’s…” he looks between Charlie and Gilda. “How long have you been together?” </p>
<p>“Since high school,” Charlie says easily. “Gilda was in the year behind me.” She smiles fondly at her wife. “I figured out her secret in the eleventh grade. She still had some runes on her back and while I was, uh-” she looks around shiftily, “-<i>admiring</i> her playing volleyball, her jersey rode up and I saw them. They looked exactly like what I’d seen in my LARPing guide so I asked her about them, hoping I could invite her to my kingdom. I thought they were tattoos. But she kinda freaked out and promised me not to tell anyone and one thing led to another and…” she shrugs, smiling doofily and leaning in to press a kiss to Gilda’s cheek. </p>
<p>“Is that how you know Dean?” he asks. </p>
<p>“Dean was a grade above me,” Charlie says.</p>
<p>“I knew Dean from rituals,” Gilda says. Even her voice tinkles like the shimmer of her invisible wings. “My parents died when I was young so I had to go to group communions for rituals. Dean’s mother often did mine, and when she passed, Sam started to do them. After I hit fae puberty,” she turns a fond look to her wife, “Charlie started to do them.” She returns her attention to Castiel. “Magic can be taught.” </p>
<p>“Even without a magic bloodline?” Castiel asks, arching a brow and looking between the women. </p>
<p>Watching their lips as they speak, Eileen chimes in. “Sam has taught me magic. I’m not as strong as he is, but I can do basic spells.” </p>
<p>Sensing where this is going, Castiel hums. “So… I could, potentially, learn how to do the ritual magic that keeps Dean passing for mortal?” </p>
<p>All the women smile. </p>
<p>Flushing slightly, Castiel turns towards the sink to submerge his arms into the suds all the way up to his elbows. “I hope you’ll excuse me. Learning about all of this is…” </p>
<p>“It’s a little overwhelming,” Charlie says agreeably. The women start moving about the kitchen once more, continuing the clean-up process. “But everyone has a <i>little</i> magic in them. You just gotta learn how to harness it.” </p>
<p>Staring at the bubbles, Castiel feels his shoulders slump a little. “You are all so… young and vital. I am unsure if I would be able to-”</p>
<p>A punch to his shoulder jolts him. He swings his head around to see Gilda glaring up at him, her honey-gold eyes narrowed. “If I hear you degrade your age one more time, I will turn you into a <i>real</i> old man with poor vision and a beard a mile long!” </p>
<p>“Hey now,” Charlie dodges in, pulling Gilda away by her elbow. “Babe, you don’t need to go that far. He’s self-conscious, ok? He’s allowed.” </p>
<p>Catching the gist of the conversation, Eileen appears at Castiel’s elbow so she can look at his face while she talks. “Your age doesn’t matter. You are not too old for Dean. You are not too old for magic. You are not too old to learn anything new.” She lifts her hands, signing as she says, “Magic lives in us all if you let yourself see it. Dean chose <i>you</i>. Don’t question his judgment.” </p>
<p>“How can I not?” Castiel asks, eyes soft as he looks at Eileen’s earnest features. </p>
<p>She softens as well, putting a hand on his bicep. “Fairies only choose once. Don’t take this away from him.” </p>
<p>The statement washes over him like ice. He looks over at Charlie and Gilda, who have been together for nearly a decade. They share smiles, they laugh, they giggle and play and they’re so… comfortable. Like how he’s comfortable with Dean. Do fairies only choose once? One bond for all their life? It’s a pressure unlike anything else weighing him down suddenly. Of everyone in the world, Dean chose him. It’s elating, flattering, and at the same time… terrifying. </p>
<p>Eileen nudges him gently with her elbow. “Talk to him.” </p>
<p>Nodding stiffly, Castiel resumes scrubbing the plate in his hands. As much as he’s let details float by him since finding out Dean’s true nature, he can’t allow that to happen anymore. </p>
<p>It’s time to learn everything.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>💮💮💮</p>
</div>Two hours later, everyone but Dean is gone. Just like last time, they sit out on the back deck, next to each other in the chairs Dean lovingly crafted, lemonades in hand as they stargaze.<p>“Heard you know about Gilda,” Dean says. </p>
<p>“I do,” Castiel replies. </p>
<p>“So you uh… learned a bit more about it all. ‘Bout us.” </p>
<p>“I did.” </p>
<p>An awkward silence stretches, then Dean caves. “Look, I know I’m kind of an idiot and I don’t always- y’know, I’m not very good at the whole communicating thing and I’m tryna work on it, obviously not that well ‘cause I can tell you’re kinda pissed at me, which I understand, ‘cause I should be giving you way more info than I have been, but I dunno what’s gonna scare you off-” </p>
<p>“I think I can decide for myself what will scare me or not,” Castiel says, turning his head to look at Dean. The fairy is slouched in his seat, bowed legs stretched out under the table, fingers laced tightly over each other and resting on his tummy. “I would like all of the information before I make that decision.”</p>
<p>“Right,” Dean blows out, lifting a hand to scrub over his face and mouth. “D’you… Can we just do this like a q-and-a?” </p>
<p>“Sure,” Castiel says easily, turning his gaze back up to the stars. “Do fairies mate for life?” </p>
<p>“...” Dean exhales shakily. “Yeah.” </p>
<p>“What would have happened if I declined to mate you?” Castiel asks. </p>
<p>“Dunno,” Dean mumbles.</p>
<p>“What will happen if, in the future, I decide I do not want to be with you?”</p>
<p>“Dunno,” Dean says a little louder. </p>
<p>“What will happen when I die and leave you behind?” </p>
<p>“I don’t know!” Dean finally snaps. “Jesus, that got morbid fast.” </p>
<p>“It’s a logical question, Dean,” Castiel sighs, finally looking over towards the fairy. “I am twenty-five years your physical senior. Another twenty-five years and I will be old and wrinkly. Dementia-” he nearly chokes on the word, pushing through it. “-dementia runs in my family, Dean. Alzheimer’s. What will happen when I forget who you are?” </p>
<p>“That’s ain’t gonna happen!” Dean nearly yells.</p>
<p>Castiel blinks placidly. “And why not? It’s par for the course, Dean.” </p>
<p>The fairy shakes his head, sitting up in his chair. His cheeks are flushed from frustration, the moon highlighting his freckles and catching on the shimmer around his shoulders. “‘Cause when you mate with me, you stop aging, too. ‘Cause fairies mate for life, and a fairy’s lifespan is…” he shakes his head. “We don’t die, man. Not unless someone kills us or we get sick.”</p>
<p>Raising his eyebrows, Castiel absorbs that information. “You… live forever?”</p>
<p>“More or less,” Dean nods. “We stop aging at fae puberty, and then we just… go on from there. I mean- there are like- we’re not <i>immortal</i>. We have diseases and sicknesses and shit, and of course if a hunter gets ahold of us they can kill us. But if we’re healthy we live a long life.” </p>
<p>Contemplating Dean for a moment, Castiel softens his voice. “Gilda mentioned your mother passing.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dean matches his tone. “Some hunters got to her. Dad went after them, got himself killed, too. ‘Bout ten years ago.” </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Castiel reaches out, putting his palm over Dean’s knee. </p>
<p>Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, Dean slouches in his chair again, tipping his head against the back and staring up at the pergola covering the deck. After a few minutes his hand rests over Castiel’s, eyes closing. </p>
<p>“I dunno what’d happen to me if we end up not bein’ together,” he says, honesty in his voice, “but I’d rather try and hope for good than give up and be automatically miserable.” </p>
<p>Unable to help the small smile from spreading on his lips, Castiel squeezes his knee. “You understand that… if this works, you’ll be stuck with a grouchy, fifty year old man for the rest of your days?”</p>
<p>“Uh, I think you mispronounced ‘silver fox with a rockin’ bod’,” Dean says, eyes still closed as a grin spreads on his lips.</p>
<p>“You think so?” Castiel asks, surprise lacing his voice as he automatically looks down at himself. </p>
<p>“Pretty sure you don’t have any mirrors in your house,” Dean grumbles, opening his eyes and shifting in his seat, leaning closer to Castiel. His eyes are earnest, soft, the smile on his lips morphing from playful to sincere. “I mean it, Cas. Whatever’s goin’ on up here,” he reaches a hand to gently tap a finger against Castiel’s temple, “should try listenin’ to what’s goin’ on down here for a change.” His hand drops, palm resting over Castiel’s heart, the heat spreading rapidly through Castiel’s core. </p>
<p>“I’ve always done things logically,” Castiel confesses. “I don’t know how to listen to my heart.” </p>
<p>Dean’s smile steals his breath, green eyes glinting gold and glitter. “You’ve already been listenin’ to it, Cas. Since the day you walked home in the rain.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>jsyk i do have a stripper/dancer story in the works<br/>like i said, y'all know me too well by now</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cherry Blossoms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a strange thing when Castiel realizes that he and Dean haven’t visited each other’s homes. That is, gone inside. Dean has stepped into his kitchen, sure, but that’s right off the back door. He hasn’t come any further in. Castiel has only knocked on Dean’s back door, wandered his seemingly endless shop, and gotten his knees and elbows dirty in the garden in his front yard. It seems rather… odd, really, to think that he has a blossoming relationship with a rather accessible man and things haven’t… escalated.</p><p>Not that Castiel doesn’t want things to escalate. He’s well aware of how attracted he is to Dean; Dean with his broad shoulders, tapered waist, and bow legs. Dean with his sandy hair, his spring green eyes, his plushy lips. Just… <i>Dean</i>. Castiel is attracted to all of him.</p><p>Now that the original obstacles (read: Castiel’s insecurities) are out of the way, they get along swimmingly. They see each other every day for hours on end, share stories and company and food and drinks. They kiss, they touch, they share affection so easily it’s like breathing. Castiel has never felt such a deep and vast connection to someone. Perhaps it should be scary. He only finds it thrilling. </p><p>And what a gift, he thinks to himself often, to find a relationship such as this so late in life. He does his best to not get down on himself for their age difference, but they haven’t… officially mated, according to the rituals Eileen has explained to him. So while it’s been all summer that Castiel and Dean have been together, Castiel’s fiftieth birthday is three weeks away and he will be just that. One year into the next. Half a century old while Dean’s physical body stays a spritely twenty-three. </p><p>The thing about being with Dean is that it’s… natural. Organic, if you will. Things progress without kinks or questions. Castiel learns more and more about fae magic from Dean, Sam, and Eileen, but he also learns that he cannot wield any of it unless he’s mated with Dean. He doesn’t want to rush him, but he himself is feeling a little… antsy. Would it ever be too late? Just around the corner, will Dean suddenly decide that he doesn’t want to be with him? </p><p>The cherry blossoms in Dean’s yard change out of season, beautiful pink flutters and white petals decorating his backyard. It’s now the morning of Castiel’s birthday, a warm September day. He’s out on his back deck enjoying a cup of tea, listening for the sounds of Dean busying himself in the garage. Only, those noises don’t come. It’s… rather curious. Finishing his tea, Castiel sets the mug down on the table and stands. He’s wearing his pajamas still, flannel pants and a t-shirt, his house slippers barely making a noise as he crosses his yard to walk through the gate to Dean’s. The scent of the cherry blossoms distracts him for a moment. He stands under one of the treets, lifting his hands to collect the petals in his palms as they fall. They gather in his hair, cover his shoulders. He smiles a little to himself; beauty surrounds Dean year ‘round.</p><p>Dean’s back door clicks open. Castiel glances up. Dean is wearing one of those silk kimono robes, black in color, red in blossoms, untied and billowing around him with the soft breeze stirring through the cherry blossom trees. His skin is golden, freckles pronounced, a green glittery sheen lighting him up from head to toe. Under the robe he’s only wearing a pair of tight black boxer briefs, his entire visage both delicate and deadly at the same time. He leans against the door frame, sending Castiel a small smile. </p><p>“Hey, you.” </p><p>Castiel is drawn towards him. The sweetness, the boldness, the beauty of Dean enraptures him. The cherry blossoms fall from his hair and shoulders, though many cling even to him during his short journey. He steps up onto the back step. Dean is more than a head taller than him. Castiel lifts a hand, his fingers twined with Dean’s between one blink and the next. </p><p>“Happy birthday,” Dean says softly. </p><p>He can’t take his eyes off of him. Today Dean looks… <i>radiant</i>. Ravishing. Magnificent. Castiel doesn’t trust his mouth to speak his thoughts properly. Dean seems to know, though. He pulls Castiel up by his hand, drawing him into his house. Castiel follows, entranced. The door shuts behind him. The scent of the cherry blossoms filters into a new scent; a fragrant bouquet cut with citrus. He thought he’d be walking into the kitchen of Dean’s house, and perhaps it is, but the layout is… strange. Cabinets and a sink are in an L-shape in the corner of two walls, a large, low table in the middle with no chairs set. The floor is aged oak, the walls a soft purple. Dean continues to draw him through, Castiel only able to take in a few details before they exit the kitchen and enter a… well, the only word to describe it would be: den. </p><p>He knows just by looking at it that Dean’s house is smaller than his own. He assumed less square footage, one bedroom, one bath, kitchen and living room. As it is he can see the bathroom off on one side, tucked away, but the rest of the room is… well. </p><p>Beautiful.</p><p>There aren’t many modern accents. There’s one television up on the wall with other digital devices on a shelf next to it. The floor, however, is a dedicated space for… sleeping? He looks at all the blankets and pillows, homemade and comfy. Some sort of nest, perhaps. Dean guides him into the thick of things, the edges of his silk robe catching on Castiel’s calves and shins. He wishes he could feel it on his skin. There are flowers <i>everywhere</i>. Lilies, begonias, marigolds, roses, hibiscus, sakura. Some potted, some strewn about, some on surfaces, some on the floor. </p><p>Very carefully, with intent, mapping his movements in case Castiel might want to be anywhere else, Dean lowers Castiel onto what’s likely a mattress on the floor. It’s covered in pretty blankets and pillows, all varying in colors, patterns, and material, petals scattered over it. Castiel melts into it. </p><p>Dean is a vision above him. There’s a bit of hesitation in his eyes even as he reaches for Castiel’s shirt, gently rucking it up his body. It’s silly, Castiel thinks, that Dean could ever think he doesn’t want him.</p><p>Shifting, Castiel helps remove his shirt. Dean’s eyes devour him. Some cherry blossom petals fall into the dip of Castiel’s clavicle. Dean’s fingers move to the waistband of his pajama pants, sending Castiel a questioning look as they dip in, hot and delicious against his skin. Castiel wiggles, offering a reassuring smile. Soon Castiel lies in his boxers on a bed of bouquets, Dean settling between his legs. The heat between their bodies is like molten lava, burning with intensity but moving in no hurry. Dean dips down, capturing his mouth in a kiss. He melts down, lifts his arms to wrap them around Dean’s shoulders. His fingers drag against silk, feeling it glide under his fingertips and palm. </p><p>Decadent. </p><p>Dean truly is out of this world. </p><p>Their breaths come short. Their skin grows warm. Their lips swell and slick, their eyes meeting every time they pull back for air. Castiel has never felt such an intense connection, such a deep desire for someone. Dean desires him just as much, the hardness in their underwear bumping and grinding unhurriedly as they continue to share kisses. Dean pulls away, arching his body and sliding his hands under the backs of Castiel’s thighs. He looks elegant and strong, powerful and beautiful. He takes Castiel’s slippers off. Then, he works his underwear down to be tossed as well. </p><p>Fully naked under Dean should feel perhaps a bit daunting, but it only feels incredible, a head rush like none other. Dean doesn’t overpower him, doesn’t dominate him. He moves with him, reads his movements, responds accordingly. A candle burns on a nearby low table. Dean picks it up, turning it this way and that for Castiel to see the runes etched into the wax. Eileen and Sam had given Castiel a breakdown on what their mating ritual would entail, but neither of them knew specifics, as the mating ritual is sacred and protected. </p><p>Castiel knows what this is. </p><p>Perhaps he knew it the moment he laid eyes on Dean. </p><p>Dean rakes his fingers through Castiel’s hair, gathering cherry blossoms. He rubs them between his fingers, impressing their scent into his skin. He dips his finger into the dip of the candle where the flame burns, gathering the wax; he then starts to draw on Castiel’s chest, leaving tingles in the wake. He didn’t think that many cherry blossoms had gathered on him, but he notices now that he’s… covered, and the fabric surrounding him is also peppered with the petals. Cherry blossoms fall into Dean’s hair, catch on the tent in his underwear. </p><p>Closing his eyes, Castiel tips his head back for a moment, fully absorbing the sensation of Dean tracing symbols over his skin. When he stops, Castiel licks his lips and looks up, watching as Dean slowly tips the candle. The wax splashes onto Castiel’s torso, hot and scalding one second and then cool in the next. He barely makes a noise, his own arousal twitching with need. Looking down at himself, he sees the melted wax pooling into predetermined areas drawn by Dean’s fingertip. Beautiful symbols and patterns erupt under the melted wax, the solidifying of the liquid imprinting the symbols into Castiel’s skin. </p><p>Dean sets the candle aside. The flame still burns strong. His shoulders shift, the kimono falling off his shoulders in a waterfall of elegance. Dean’s body is graceful beyond imagination as he moves over Castiel, naked in the next instant as he climbs over his lap. Automatically Castiel’s hands slide up Dean’s thighs, up to his hips, thumbs digging into the vee of his pelvis. Dean lets out a low moan, lashes fluttering, some glitter falling from the ether around him to cover cherry blossoms and freckled skin in shimmer. </p><p>Their erections align. Without hands Dean grinds against him, sinuous and slow, the hot slide of their flesh dizzying Castiel. Surprisingly strong hands keep him pinned to the clouds, Dean doing all of the work as he glides and grinds. Precum slicks the way, Dean moving a hand to take them both into his palm, thumb pressing against the slit of Castiel’s shaft. Hips jerking slightly, Castiel lets out a low, wrecked moan. Dean’s hand speeds up. Castiel’s eyes burn a little, looking up at the sight that is Dean. </p><p>Dean runs a hand down his chest. He looks down at where his palm smudges the symbols and runes, new ones blooming in the wake of his touch. Dean works his body, sliding forward until Castiel’s cock bumps against his ass, hot and wet and slick. Castiel’s brain starts to short out. Dean is… wet? And open? Dean rocks his hips until the head catches, then lets out a satisfied groan, throwing his head back, shimmer and flowers swirling. </p><p>Castiel holds on for dear life.</p><p>Beautiful, enchanting Dean fucks himself onto Castiel’s cock in such a slow, agonizing manner, it’s like he’s drawing out the sensation while not searching for release. Castiel is swept under, planting his feet a little to help Dean gain leverage in his movements. They grind like that, Castiel suddenly finding release a stupid endgame; why would he want this to end? Why would he want anything other than Dean, on his lap, neck craned and spine arched and skin flushed? His hands start to wander over Dean’s chest; as his fingers move runes and symbols trail behind them, liquid emerald as they skitter and spread over Dean’s torso. Without looking he knows his chest looks the same. </p><p>Sitting up, he switches gears. He wraps his arms around Dean’s body, burying his face in the crook of his neck, teeth scraping over his collarbone, tasting hibiscus. Like this he can pull Dean down onto his cock, bury himself deeper inside of him. Dean lets out an approving moan, winding his arms around Castiel’s body, fingers tangling in his hair. He shifts his lower half until his legs can wrap around Castiel’s body as well, giving him all of the control. Kisses like fuschia, Castiel sucks a mark into the flesh under his teeth. Dean’s wings shimmer behind him before blinking into existence, iridescent and tittering. </p><p>On impulse, Castiel reaches for one. His fingers trace the veins that encase their shimmer, the frame that gives them shape and substance. Dean’s breath comes quicker, his thighs flexing around Castiel’s waist, wetness erupting between them. He drops his head back, exposing his chest and the pretty runes stamped on it. Castiel dives forward, attaching his lips to his sternum. </p><p>Something explodes between them, a supernova of magic that expands and then condenses all at once. His orgasm is swept out of him in the fallout, a sweet release instead of the jackhammer he was expecting. </p><p>The room quiets from the odd roar and rustle that had been surrounding them.</p><p>The cherry blossoms fall.</p><p>The runes and symbols disappear from their skin. </p><p>It’s just Dean on Castiel’s lap, his softening cock still joining them, their arms wrapped tightly around one another. </p><p>They breathe in unison. </p><p>Dean’s fingers move back into Castiel’s hair, pressing their foreheads together. Their gazes meet, Castiel looking at him with wonder as Dean shoots back a cheeky, breathless grin. </p><p>“<i>Is breá liom tú</i>,” he says. “It means… I love you.” </p><p>Castiel looks between Dean’s golden-green eyes and asks, “What am I to say in return?”</p><p>“<i>Is leatsa mé agus is leatsa mise</i>,” Dean says. “It means… I’m yours. And you’re mine.”</p><p>Letting out a small hum on an exhale, Castiel noses his way into Dean’s blushing cheek, murmuring softly in his best attempt, “<i>Is leatsa mé agus is leatsa mise</i>.”</p><p>Cherry blossoms dance on their lips, the ritual done.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>language: Irish 🧚🏻♂️<br/>sona bealtaine, spring witches🏵️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Corn(y)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>short &amp; sweet<br/>some lore and history explained.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You guys are disgusting,” Sam says. </p>
<p>Dean unglues his lips from Castiel’s cheek to stick his tongue out at his little brother. “Like you and Eileen don’t make me sick on a regular basis.”</p>
<p>“I think it’s lovely,” Castiel signs to Eileen, who beams at him.</p>
<p>Dean grumbles and bodily removes himself from Castiel. Charlie and Gilda come around the back, wearing matching smiles and toting wine, flowers, and fruits. </p>
<p>“‘Sup, bitches!” Charlie greets. “‘Grats!” </p>
<p>Her and Gilda move to kneel down on the large blanket spread in Castiel’s back yard, putting the wine and fruit in the center next to the picnic basket. Gilda turns to Castiel, taking both of his hands and lifting them to her forehead in what he’s learned is a traditional fae greeting.</p>
<p>“Congratulations, brother,” she says in that melodious voice of hers.</p>
<p>Castiel brings her hands to his forehead, returning the sentiment with a small smile.</p>
<p>It was a curious thing, the mating ritual. Castiel had turned fifty that day, and yet when he woke up the next morning he felt… incredible. Gone were the aches and pains of growing older, his headaches vanished and his body spry and flexible. No wonder Sam, Charlie, and Eileen are always so full of energy. Fairy magic is truly wonderful for everyone affected by it. </p>
<p>“So, when do you think we gotta move?” Charlie asks, picking up the corkscrew and working on the bottle she brought.</p>
<p>“Move?” Castiel asks, blinking. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sam sends Castiel a smile that looks a bit more like a grimace. “We have to move around because, well, Dean and Gilda don’t get older, while the rest of us age, even if it is at a slower rate. If we stick around for too long, people start to notice.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Castiel says, turning to look thoughtfully at his house. He’s rather attached to it. The thought of moving after being here for so long sort of… tugs at him. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Dean brings him out of his thoughts with a hand on his knee. Now that they are bonded, a simple touch can convey emotions and feelings without words. Most of the time Dean uses his touch to quell Castiel’s spikes of anxiety. “We don’t gotta worry about that yet. We can probably live here another five years before people notice. The only people that would be suspicious are Lisa and Ben, really. Maybe some of the old ladies at the grocery store.”</p>
<p>“What about Bobby and Rufus?” </p>
<p>“They’ve lived in this town for forever, but our family has been helping them out with health and healing for,” Sam blows out a breath. “Fifteen years? How do you think they’re so cranky and angry and don’t have any heart problems?”</p>
<p>“Not to mention Bobby drinks like a fish,” Dean points out. He picks up a croissant, tearing into it happily.</p>
<p>Castiel snorts under his breath. He takes the plastic cup of wine when Charlie hands it to him. “I suppose that makes sense. Do they move with you?”</p>
<p>“Not so obviously,” Dean says after he chews and swallows, getting up from the blanket and hopping up the deck steps to the grill. “They usually keep their distance. Same city but usually on the other side, or maybe even a county over.”</p>
<p>“But they’re not immortal, right?” Castiel clarifies.</p>
<p>“No, but those fuckers’ll probably never die on their own,” Dean laughs boisterously. He opens up the grill, the scent of garlic-buttery goodness wafting over the crowd. “Corn’s done!” </p>
<p>Everyone meanders to the grill to get a plate full of grilled corn and a side of caesar salad. It’s a modest meal, but they’re much more interested in drinking and celebrating Dean and Castiel’s union than anything. They all return to the blanket, sitting down comfortably- something Castiel never thought he’d be able to do on a picnic blanket on the ground at his age. Incredible. </p>
<p>“Are you guys going to have a marriage ceremony?” Charlie asks.</p>
<p>Blinking in surprise, Castiel looks over at Dean, who shrugs. “Dunno. Why’s it matter? We’re mated.” </p>
<p>“Besides,” Sam says, slurping some melted butter off the end of his cob. It gets all over his fingers despite his efforts, “it’s best to not put anything down on paper.”</p>
<p>“How do you… do anything?” Castiel asks, suddenly having a thousand questions pop into his head. “Nearly everything these days requires legally binding documents. Your houses? Cell phones?” </p>
<p>“We don’t use cell phones,” Eileen says. </p>
<p>“We pay cash for our houses,” Sam says. </p>
<p>“And I, uh, used to be on an FBI watch list for computer hacking, ssssssoooo,” Charlie turns her head away, sipping her drink noisily. </p>
<p>Castiel gapes at them all, then turns to Dean. “Is this why you didn’t want me to set up a digital profile for transactions?” </p>
<p>He gets a wink and a smile in return. “This face is immortal but it’s been pinned to a few different precincts.”</p>
<p>Looking among everyone, Castiel is stunned to see them all serious. They’re a bit sheepish, but no one comes out and says “haha! Kidding!”, which causes Castiel to rub the bridge of his nose idly. </p>
<p>“What have I gotten myself into?” </p>
<p>“It’s not so bad,” Eileen signs, then talks while her hands move. “This is the first time we’ve moved since Dean hit fae puberty. We didn’t know he’d find a mate.” </p>
<p>Dean wiggles his pinky in his ear. “I really hate that term.” </p>
<p>“It’s gone really well,” Eileen continues. “All of us have managed to find work and set up a regular life.” </p>
<p>“Until we move in five years,” Castiel says. “Also, Charlie and I won’t age, but what about you and Sam?” </p>
<p>“We still age, just slower. If we don’t raise suspicion, no one is suspicious.” Sam says with a shrug.</p>
<p>Castiel squints. “Aren’t you a lawyer?” </p>
<p>“I didn’t say I was an ethical one,” he sniffs. </p>
<p>“Castiel,” Gilda finally speaks, putting a hand on his knee and sending him a kind smile. “We are each other’s support system. As long as we stay together… we can do anything.”</p>
<p>That’s a lot of responsibility for someone who’s only known this group for eight months. But what’s done is done- he can’t undo the ritual. He doesn’t <i>want</i> to. Looking at his house, he thinks. He’d been looking for a life change. Retiring was just the beginning, he supposes. Everything that’s tumbled into place afterwards had been a surprise, but never anything he didn’t want. </p>
<p>“I think,” Castiel finally says, shifting to look at the group at large, “I’m ready for the next five years, and beyond.” </p>
<p>“Gee, Cas,” Dean says, lifting his ear of corn to waggle it in the direction of his mate, “that was pretty <i>corn</i>y.” </p>
<p>Castiel sends Dean a flat look. “Sam is teaching me how to cast spells. Don’t test your luck.” </p>
<p>Dean cackles, leaning forward to press a buttery kiss to Castiel’s scruffy cheek. </p>
<p>Yes, he thinks as he lovingly pushes his mate away, listening to the tinkling laughter all around him, watching pink and green glitter shimmer on the breeze. A cherry blossom falls into his lap, drawing his attention. Picking it up between his fingers, he smiles to himself. </p>
<p>Dean will always be the sun on a cloudy day. </p>
<p>The next chapter of Castiel’s life starts now. </p>
<p>The journey he’d been looking for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>plot twist: fairies are criminals flying (ha) under the radar</p>
<p>love you guys so much, thank you for coming on this journey with me!</p>
<p>ps when sam says "if we aren't suspicious no one will be suspicious" <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyEBeHvNJvE">this song</a> played on a loop in my head for like an hour... you're welcome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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